


Rescue

by gleefulmusings



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Comics Disregarded, Cordelia Chase is Immortal, F/M, Friendship, Post-Episode: s07e22 Chosen, You're Welcome Never Happened, episode rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 13:13:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 40,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7223659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gleefulmusings/pseuds/gleefulmusings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cordelia has a new mission and Xander is an integral part, but first she's going to do what she does best: kick everyone's ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Road Home

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive these notes, but I do believe they're necessary to anyone considering reading this story. It is primarily a Xander/Cordelia fiction, though they interact very little; in fact, Xander hardly makes an appearance. It takes place during the fifth season of Angel in lieu of "You're Welcome" (because it was just wrong for Cordy to go out like that), so this is basically how I would have liked to have seen Cordelia return.
> 
> Be forewarned: she is not nice in this story. She goes after everyone and doesn't hold back. In essence, she calls everyone out on their nonsense. Please know that I am not bashing the other characters; Cordy's arguments are carefully constructed to deal with how these characters act canonically. So if you feel this might bother you, please do not read this story and, if you do, please do not flame me, as I've been kind enough to provide considerable warning. I will also be taking liberties with Cordelia's powers as a half-demon and Higher Being, so if a superpowered!Cordelia is not your cup of tea, I certainly understand and thank you for your interest!

They were talking about him again.  
  
Even the cacophonous din of early-morning Rome – the melodious babble of the natives; the guttural demands of the English-speaking tourists, which he now found grating; the markets setting up for business – did little to cushion their onslaught of angry words and declarations of worry.   
  
Didn’t they know he could hear them?   
  
Perhaps it was telling that they no longer cared.   
  
It might have annoyed him more had he been able to bring himself to be bothered. He found it vaguely amusing that they felt no compunction about debating what to do with him – _with_ him, not _for_ him – yet they never considered asking what he might want. Of course, he had been discouraging their particular brand of assistance for almost a year. He supposed that he should have been touched that they continued to fear for him, to worry and plan for him; instead, he found it suffocating.  
  
Their biggest quibble was that he no longer laughed.   
  
He had stopped laughing almost three years before; long before Sunnydale had been destroyed, before Caleb had taken his eye, before Giles had shown up on Buffy’s doorstep shepherding the first Potentials as if they were goslings, before the First, and even before Willow had channeled Freddy Krueger. They just hadn’t noticed.   
  
He hadn’t laughed since before his aborted wedding to Anya. He had still quipped, made corny jokes to soothe ruffled feathers, but he hadn’t laughed.   
  
Ever since Buffy had died the second time, there just wasn’t much to laugh about; perhaps even since before Joyce had died. There simply hadn’t been time. Dawn had needed so much; Giles had left; Willow had become tainted by her thirst for power; Tara leaving Willow caused the undercurrents in the gang to come swirling forth like white water rapids.   
  
Xander had sided with Tara and knew Willow had never really forgiven him for the perceived betrayal. He too had believed that she was becoming consumed by the magic, and little of what had been his best friend remained; their relationship had never recovered. Band-aids had been applied, but sooner or later they’d have to be ripped away.  
  
He had never wanted to resurrect Buffy, knowing on a fundamental level that it was wrong, unnatural.   
  
He had let Willow convince him that Buffy was trapped in some hell dimension and needed rescue. His conscience had all but screamed its denials, insisting it was a fallacy, that Buffy was no more in hell than was Joyce. Willow had argued her case as if she had been presenting it to the Supreme Court and he had allowed her carefully deliberate words to sway him; he had wanted his friend back.   
  
In the end, his objections went unvoiced and that was a decision for which he alone was responsible; he didn’t blame Willow and never had. He knew Tara and Anya had been just as ambivalent but were waiting for him to argue their position. Now he realized that perhaps the reason he had kept his counsel was because he might possibly have won and Buffy wouldn’t returned.   
  
It was simply another bitter pill among many which he forced himself to choke down every single day. Some people took vitamins; Xander’s supplements were regrets.  
  
He tuned back in to the voices, waiting to see what the morning would bring.   
  
Buffy was demanding that someone go into his room and talk to him, make him see reason, make him take a shower and comb his hair and eat. There were important things to do and she needed him to help her. These arguments were old and tired. He noticed, however, that she didn’t volunteer herself as emissary.   
  
Once, he had craved her reliance on him; now he found it loathsome. He was responsible for this, for making her needy and uncertain and dependent. All of bravery she had donned in Sunnydale had evaporated in the wake of the deaths of Spike and Anya. Now there was nothing but bravado. She blamed herself particularly for Anya and, truthfully, he did as well, but certainly far less than he blamed himself.   
  
Buffy had made a bad call, but he had supported it, once again allowing the reasoning of others to run roughshod over his instincts, and Anya had paid for their mistake with her life. He and Buffy avoided each other as much as possible, yet in some ways were closer than ever. She still had difficulty looking at him, the patch a reminder of yet another failure, another miscalculation. He didn’t blame her for the loss of his eye; he had saved Kennedy and would do it again. The only thing he regretted about the whole thing was that he hadn’t been there when Buffy had played Cuisinart with Caleb. It must have been beautiful.  
  
Willow wanted to bring in professional help, some nice man or woman who could get him to open and up and communicate with his inner child. Ever since Tara’s death, Willow had returned to the girl she had been in sophomore year: hesitant, unsure, going along to get along, looking to others for approval, and relying on the experience and wisdom of her elders. Anything to avoid making a declaration which might possibly come back to bite her in the ass. Her every thought was calculated and every word contrived.   
  
He hated it, which was part of the reason he had sequestered himself in his bedroom these past three months, as well as avoiding her constant haranguing to allow her to fix his eye. He was about as anxious for Willow to work her mojo on him as he was to relieve Dawn of her virginity, which the younger girl had been trying to coerce him into doing for the past six months. Her argument that she was now eighteen made little difference to him. The whole idea bordered on incest and made him throw up a little in his mouth whenever she brought it up.  
  
Dawn, of course, was insisting that she be the one to come into his room, as if her demands for him to get up and live would somehow be better received. She warned the others that if any one them hurt her Xander, they would be made to pay in extremely painful and creative ways. He thought it funny that the others paid heed to her threat. Not that it slowed them down much, not that her words wouldn’t eventually be disregarded, but it did give them pause.

Somehow, little Dawnie had managed to surpass him in getting their friends to listen. He wasn’t sure if it was funny or sad. He didn’t really care.  
  
As was usual of late, Faith spoke for him, declaring that if anyone went into his room, if anyone tried to push him around or hasten his mourning to placate their worry, they’d be dealing with her and her fist.   
  
He didn’t know when he and Faith had become friends. They had barely spoken after she returned to Sunnydale, only shooting confused glances at one another when they thought the other wasn’t paying attention, except they always were. He never explicitly told Faith that he had forgiven her, but she had somehow come to realize it all the same. It wasn’t even difficult for him; he had forgiven others for a lot more. What was a little attempted murder between friends, after all?   
  
Faith’s erotic asphyxiation had pretty much paled in comparison to Willow funneling the earth’s energy through his chest cavity. Buffy still had problems with Faith, and it was mutual, and he recognized they would never get along. He didn’t believe they were meant to work in tandem other than when absolutely necessary. Still, the animosity between the two Slayers had lessened somewhat, which could only be considered a good thing.   
  
Willow continued to hold a grudge, which he thought was a little ridiculous, even though he understood her reasoning; he too tended to harbor revenge fantasies against those who had hurt his friends. Somehow it was always easier to forgive someone’s trespasses against you than it was to forgive those against ones whom you love. It was not a small consolation that Faith had eventually proven him right, though it took a long time.   
  
She _was_ a good person, she _was_ a hero. It had just taken a coma and a vampire to convince her of that.

He had forgiven her the moment he had learned she had turned herself into the authorities in Los Angeles all those years ago. He hoped she would soon realize that once she could forgive herself, she wouldn’t need the words from anyone else.  
  
Giles was off in London, doing New Council stuff. He wanted Xander there with him as one of the Watchers helping to guide new Slayers. It almost made him laugh that Giles now considered him the most responsible of the Scoobies. Maybe it was because he had never left, had never switched sides, had been there for it all. Giles thought a Council position was some grand reward for all of his sacrifices, but Xander just wanted out. He wanted his honorable discharge. He wanted to retire with a small pension and a log cabin in the middle of BFE where there were no phones, no demons, and no need to keep holy water by the gallon stashed beneath his sink.   
  
It scared him how easy it would be for him to walk away, but he had done his time. Even in the immediate aftermath of Sunnydale's destruction, he had wanted to leave.

He, like Andrew, had questioned why he was still alive. He had honestly expected to die long ago. That he had survived, that he had remained to bear witness for those whom he had lost, was more a punishment than a triumph. No one else understood that save Buffy, and he suspected that was why she was clinging to him more tightly than ever, but he just didn’t have it in him to live for her anymore.  
  
He was so tired. He just wanted to rest.   
  
He didn’t want to die, but he suspected death was the only viable sanctuary that would be afforded to him. He was ready to let go. Willow had stabilized, Dawn was safe, Buffy would finally be okay. But Anya was gone, along with so many: countless Potentials, Tara, Joyce, Kendra, Jenny, Jesse. They were all buried beneath rubble, like trash.   
  
It was offensive.  
  
He had nothing left to give them.  
  
He closed his eye and floated away.  
  
  


* * *

 

  
  
“You cannot go to him.”  
  
“Watch me.”  
  
“You cannot return to the mortal realm.”  
  
“You can’t stop me.”  
  
“You don’t know what you’re doing.”  
  
“And you _really_ don’t know who you’re dealing with.”  
  
  


* * *

 

  
Across the world, Cordelia Chase opened her eyes for the first time in almost a year.  
  
And she had a plan.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
She gasped, drawing into her lungs a large amount of air, and promptly began choking.   
  
She turned on her side and coughed fitfully until the spell passed. Her eyes were tearing and blinking rapidly as they tried to adjust to and filter the fluorescent lights shining down on her.  
  
“Tacky,” she wheezed.  
  
God, was that really her voice?

Wait. _What_ happened?  
  
“Damn, my head hurts,” she moaned.   
  
A vision?

She reached up to push her hair – which was surprisingly long again, but whatever, because that cut had been a _major_ mistake – and released a startled screech when she saw a huge IV needle sticking out of the top of her hand.   
  
“Gross!”   
  
She grabbed it and ripped it out, throwing it across the room.   
  
“Ow!”  
  
What was going on? Where was she? The last thing she remembered, there were some pretty lights and then …  
  
She shuddered as memory after memory washed over her, including those which involved her body if not mind, as well as those events she witnessed while she was … not here.   
  
She closed her eyes tightly against the onslaught, trying in vain to accede to the screaming denials in her head that such things couldn’t have happened to her, to her friends and family. What the hell had she done to deserve any of it? Nothing!   
  
Okay, so yeah, maybe she wasn’t as nice as she could have been, but she had been better than she once was, right? She had helped people. She had saved lives, saved the world. She deserved more.   
  
She had deserved _better_.  
  
She angrily wiped the tears leaking down her cheeks, cursing her weakness. There was no way in hell she was just going to lie there and whine about her lot in life. That was for people like Buffy, not her. When life handed Cordelia Chase lemons, she cut them open and squeezed the juice into the eyes of people who pissed her off.   
  
Right, so she needed a plan, and she needed to get to Xander.   
  
First things first, though.  
  
She sat up, rolled her neck, and sighed.

Unfortunately, First Things were going to be painful for a lot of people, including herself, but, hey, that was life. But the _very_ first thing required was a nice, hot shower.   
  
She grunted and tore the telemetry leads from her chest and head. If they left welts, some orderly was getting his ass kicked all the way to Vegas.  
  
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed.   
  
“Holy shit!”   
  
Jesus! Couldn’t Angel have sprung for someone to shave her legs? Was he hurting _that_ badly for money? Seriously, what the hell?   
  
She dropped her feet to the floor and used her hands to push herself into a standing position, immediately falling over.  
  
“Well, this sucks.”  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
The longer she was conscious, the more annoyed Cordelia became.   
  
First of all, the hospital gown was cheap and thin, made of artificial fibers no less, and it was double-knotted at her neck. Her fingers were still refusing to comply with the commands from her brain. She was less than thrilled when, in frustration, she tugged once and the entire garment was torn from her body.  
  
“Stupid demon powers. Where were you when I needed you? And, hey! How come I didn’t levitate except for that one time? That would have been useful.”  
  
She stepped into the shower, which was entirely too small and stunk of mildew. Leave it to Wolfram and Hart to skimp on housekeeping. The water pressure was pathetic, but not as pathetic as the sliver of soap which reeked of dead flowers and wouldn’t pass muster in a Motel Six. The shampoo was little more than detergent, and the conditioner was basically vegetable shortening. Where were the essentials? Angel knew her preferences. Weren’t they expecting her to wake up?  
  
Oh.  
  
She leaned further under the spray and rested her forehead against a slick tile.   
  
What were they going to say? How were they going to react?   
  
She angrily shook her head. She couldn’t worry about that now. They had made their choices, for better or for worse. She would try to give Angel one final shove in the right direction, but then she was done. As for the others, it was time for a reality check, Cordy style!  
  
Instantly, she felt better and nodded.   
  
Fred and Gunn were reasonable people, but they had gotten caught up in Angel’s misguided mission. She just needed to set them back on their own paths and make them realize that they could be Angel’s allies without being his minions. Harmony was in for a rude awakening, as was Angel for hiring her. And then Spike.   
  
She grinned.   
  
This was going to be so much _fun_!  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
She had forgotten long hair took a lot of time to dry and style.   
  
The upside was that all of the blond highlights had grown out. She needed to send something to her stylist who had talked her into them in the first place, but what was appropriate? Rotten fruit? Flaming dog doo in a paper bag? Then she recalled he paid his employees under the table.   
  
Luckily she still remembered the name of the IRS asshole who had confiscated her money and jewelry before her father was sentenced. It was time to put that jerk to work for _her_.   
  
And really, what _had_ that blond been about? Who was she trying to be? Buffy? As if!   
  
Satisfied that her ability to make executive decisions had not been impaired, she promptly settled upon a sleek, simple ponytail. She made quick work of it before her hair began relaxing back into waves.  
  
She pranced out into the room proper and looked around, glaring. If there wasn’t an acceptable ensemble stowed in that ridiculous excuse for a closet, there were some nursing assistants who were about to be sent on a buying mission.  
  
Suddenly, the door swung open and a middle-aged Asian man wandered in.  
  
“Who the hell are you?” she demanded.  
  
He stared at her for a long moment, his mouth falling open.  
  
“Well?” She started tapping her foot which, to anyone who knew her, signaled the approach of that horseman who waved the banner of wrath.  
  
“Uh, I’m your doctor.”  
  
She sniffed. “We’ll see about that.”   
  
Securing her towel around her bust, she sauntered over to the closet and threw open the door, peering inside. Luckily for those nursing assistants, there was a suitable outfit and pair of shoes inside. They didn’t offer the exact image she wanted to present, but she could make do.   
  
Where the hell was the rest of her stuff? She raised her eyes and saw her favorite purse on the top shelf. Makeup!   
  
She grabbed what she needed, spun on her heel, and headed back toward the bathroom. She looked askance at the physician.   
  
“Are you still here?”  
  
“Miss Chase …”  
  
“Whatever. I don’t have time. I’m awake, I know my name, where I am, and what I need to do. So, if you’ll excuse me, and even if you won’t, I have more important people to talk to than you.”  
  
She made it to the bathroom, threw an imperious glare over her shoulder, and slammed the door shut.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
She did her makeup first, going for that natural look which took more time than people realized. Still, there was no point in painting the peacock. Some foundation, lipstick, eyeliner, and a bit of mascara later, she threw on the clothes before stepping into the shoes.   
  
Ah, much better. All was right in the world when stilettos were on her feet. She just had to remember to walk slow so she wouldn't keel over again, because that would just be pathetic.  
  
Several thoughts raced through her mind as she performed these tasks.   
  
What about her apartment? If Angel had let the lease lapse, she was going to have to find some hot pokers.

God, what about Dennis? He must have gone out of his mind! She chewed her lip. She didn’t have time to pay him a visit, but once she was on her way to Xander, she’d call the apartment and leave him a message. Hopefully, the number hadn’t changed.   
  
She then took a page from Uma Thurman and began compiling her hit list. Actually, there was only one name on it: Skip.  
  
“I’m gonna find you, you fat gray blob, and you’re going to pray that bug thing had pulled a black widow on your bitch ass.”  
  
She then ran down her list of targets which, fortunately, was much longer and would allow her to exorcise some of her rage.   
  
First on the agenda was Angel. The vampire had a lot to answer for, starting with Connor and ending with the takeover of the law firm. Next up was Wesley; spell or not, that dork was going to get an earful. Harmony. Spike. Then she’d revisit her old gang. She’d seen a lot of things during her tenure in the Higher Realms, and had been paid visits by people she wished she had been able to get to know better.  
  
Some things she refused to consider, like Connor.   
  
She shuddered.   
  
Angel needed his son and Connor needed him, she knew that, but she was going to make sure she was long gone before that reunion took place. She couldn’t deal with seeing him. As far she was concerned, as far as she remembered, he was her son. All of the stuff that had happened had happened to her body, not to her.   
  
Jasmine.   
  
She seethed.   
  
“I’m not your mommy, dumbass.”  
  
Then there was the funny stuff:   
  
The destruction of the Watchers’ Council.   
  
“Good riddance.”   
  
She had no love for them. While she and Buffy would probably never be friends, she resented the way the Council had treated Buffy, as well as Faith, and she was shocked as hell that she was actually positing even a relatively mild defense of Faith.   
  
The defeat of the First.   
  
“What kind of super villain can’t even touch stuff? Lame.”   
  
The destruction of Sunnydale.   
  
“Overdue.”  
  
Finally, it was time to consider the sadness.   
  
She knew that she was going to have to hurt them to help them, but as much as she despised that, it was necessary.   
  
Angel had lost his way and he needed to be reminded of his purpose but, beyond that, there was little she could do for him. He had made some really bad calls and she couldn’t fix them.   
  
She loved him, so much that it hurt, but they could never be together. She supposed she had always known that. She’d been there for it all, even the stuff with Buffy.   
  
Granted, the relationship he had had with the Slayer was completely different from the one Angel shared with her, which was mature and based on a deep level of commitment and friendship, but she no longer trusted him. He had become someone she no longer recognized, and that scared her.   
  
She would help him and would always be there for him, but their time was over and she needed some space. He wasn’t her mission any longer. He answered to the Powers; she answered to an authority much more important: her conscience.  
  
Right now, Xander needed her more. She didn’t know what would happen when she saw him again, but she’d take it one step at a time. But first she had to get to him.

Right!   
  
She looked in the mirror, squared her shoulders, and deemed herself fabulous. It was time to kick ass and take names.   
  
And then phone numbers and addresses, just to remind everyone later how easy it was.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Harmony, vampire receptionist extraordinaire, was busy making executive decisions of her own.   
  
In one hand rested a bottle of Cotton Candy Dreams; in the other, Paint the Town Red. But which to choose? An assistant’s job was never done!   
  
She was startled from her reverie by the insistent chirping of Angel’s private line, which he had asked her to screen while he was in conference with the department heads.   
  
She warily eyed the phone, knowing that whatever was going on must have been important, since access to that number was restricted. She chewed her lip, fearful of pressing the wrong button.   
  
Again.  
  
Gathering her courage, she laid down the nail polish and picked up the phone and pressed the button, closing her eyes and crossing the fingers of her other hand.   
  
“Mister Angel’s line.”  
  
“This is Doctor Tanaka in the Infirmary. I need to speak to Mister Angel immediately.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Doctor,” Harmony replied, oozing professionalism, “but the boss is in the middle of an important meeting. May I take a message?”  
  
“I was instructed to speak only with him regarding this matter.”  
  
Harmony tried to fit together the pieces. “You said the Infirmary? Hey! Is this about Cordy?” she screeched. The ensuing silence confirmed her suspicions. “Is she okay? Tell me! I’m her best friend!”  
  
He hesitated a moment longer. “Miss Chase is awake.”  
  
The vampire choked. “What?”  
  
“Miss Chase has awoken from her coma.”  
  
“Oh my god! I have to tell Angel! Get off my phone!”   
  
She threw down the receiver, raced for the private office, and tore the door from its hinges.   
  
“Boss! Boss! Angel!”  
  
He looked up from the file opened on his desk and glared at her. “Harmony, how many times have I told you …”  
  
“Cordy’s awake!”  
  
His face blanked as he slowly rose to his feet. Wesley, Gunn, and Lorne gaped at each other. Fred was already moving toward the door. Spike looked bored.  
  
“Hello,” Harmony drawled, slightly shaking her head. “Cordelia Chase? Awake? Is this registering, or do I have to write a memo?”   
  
Fred pushed past her, knocking her into a bookcase.   
  
“My hair!” The vampire rushed to tend to the flyaways as the others, save Spike, raced past her.  
  
“Well,” Spike smirked, “this promises to be quite a show.”  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Angel loudly cursed the elevator, which was taking its sweet time. He was convinced the Senior Partners were somehow responsible for this, trying to keep him from her.  
  
Fred was chewing on a tendril of hair. “She’s okay. Right? I mean, she’s awake, so that’s good, right?”  
  
“It’s fabulous, gumdrop,” Lorne assured her, his heart ready to burst through his ass.  
  
“Harmony,” Wesley asked, “did the doctors say how she was faring?”  
  
“How she was what?”  
  
“How she’s doing,” Gunn translated, sighing and rolling his eyes.  
  
“No, just that she was awake.”  
  
As they began chattering excitedly about their friend’s return, Angel kept his counsel and his eyes upon the floor, conscious that Spike was silently observing him. He prayed that Cordelia was okay, that she had come back to him, but he couldn’t allow himself to hope. What if it wasn’t his Cordy who had woken?   
  
What if it _was_?   
  
How much did she remember? How much did she know? And did the spell affect her like it did the others? If anyone was to remember Connor, it would be her.   
  
But did it really matter? No. He wanted her back, and someone, somewhere, had heard him. Everything else would work itself out.  
  
Finally, the lift stopped and the doors dinged open. Angel led the charge toward the hospital room, Lorne and Fred right on his heels, followed by Wesley and Gunn, and then Harmony.   
  
Spike brought up the rear, a sick feeling settling in his stomach. He didn’t know the cheerleader chit that well, but from what he remembered, she was a bitch of the highest caliber. Normally that was cause for celebration and part of him was frothing at the mouth to see what she had in store for Angel; the other part of him insisted this was too convenient and more than a little too easy. Everyone had agreed that the bint would most likely never wake up, so what the hell had happened?  
  
Angel paused before her room, his hand poised to knock, sure that at any moment, someone was going to come up to him and say that it was all a big mistake, that Harmony hadn’t heard the doctor correctly, that Cordelia had actually taken a turn for the worse. He felt Fred pushing at his back and he finally swung open the door, standing on the threshold as if awaiting an invitation. Shaking his head, he stormed the room, eyes darting everywhere.   
  
“Cordy? Cordy! Cordelia!”  
  
The bathroom door flung open and she strolled out. Dressed to kill in chocolate suede pants and a tight black wrap top, she headed toward the phone, strutting effortlessly in absurdly high-heeled boots. She paid them no notice.  
  
The gasps on their lips died before they were exhaled. Did she not see them? Were they imagining all of this?  
  
“Cordy!” Angel called again, his voice a strangled sob. All of the hope in his heart withered when she turned and regarded him with a cool, dismissive glance.  
  
“Oh. It’s you.”  
  
  
  


  
  
  
Harmony recognized the look in Cordelia’s eyes and promptly began backing up toward the door. She didn’t know what was about to go down, but she didn’t want any part of it.   
  
Still, she was unable to remove herself completely from the situation, morbid fascination demanding she remain as witness.   
  
Spike wanted to dance a jig of glee because, as he suspected, the cheerleader was not amused with Angel, and anything which upset Angel gave Spike a warm and fuzzy feeling.   
  
Wesley appeared utterly confused, Gunn upset, and Fred fearful.   
  
Cordelia was waiting for Angel’s reaction before she made her next move. She had a few contingency plans in mind, but knew from past experience of outmaneuvering him that it was always best – and much more fun – to put him first on the defensive. So she would glare and wait for him to put his foot in his mouth.  
  
“You’re back,” he whispered.  
  
That was it? That's all he had? _Boring_.  
  
“And now I’m leaving.” She grabbed her purse and moved toward the door. He adjusted his position to block her path, and she knew then that it was on.  
  
“You’re not going anywhere.”  
  
She frowned and continued walking forward, her every step met by one of Angel’s retreat, though he didn’t move aside. She could see him mustering his arguments, getting ready to deliver a passionate homily about how much he had missed her and how badly he needed her, and she truly wanted to hear those things, to know that he still loved her, that she hadn’t been forgotten, but her anger at his ineptitude was lighted and wouldn’t soon extinguish. He had forgotten with whom he was dealing.   
  
It was time to remind him.   
  
“Look, Broody, I don’t have time for this. Places to go, lives to trash. Get out of my way or I’ll rip your head from your shoulders and use it to start an office intramural soccer team.”  
  
His eyes widened as he took another step back, gauging the seriousness of her threat. When he saw her eyes narrow and her lips thin, he understood she wasn’t playing games. She was pissed and he appeared to be her target.

Just like old times.   
  
“You can’t leave me. Not now; not again.”  
  
The words hurt and it took all of her strength not to run forward and pitch herself into his arms, but that wasn’t what either of them needed. This wasn’t the time for Hallmark Hall of Fame moments. She had a mission and needed to get him to refocus on his own.   
  
“Listen, Dolt and Doltettes, because I’m only going to say this once.” She expanded her gaze to include the others, pleased when Spike’s chortling died in his throat when she turned on him. “You’re all morons!”  
  
They launched into babbling protests and denials.  
  
She first moved on Gunn, pointedly looking him up and down, before snorting in derision.   
  
“What _is_ this? What the hell happened to you? You used to be Batman, running through the dark of night, taking out the Big Bads and making the streets safe for your crew.”   
  
She shook her head in disappointment. “Look at you now. Wearing a five-thousand dollar suit you once would have ridiculed. So. Lawyer, huh? Guess everyone needs a job.”   
  
She threw her hands up and looked at the ceiling. “Oh! That’s right! You _had_ one.” She looked back at him and cocked her head. “And it wasn’t being a poseur who sold his soul to upgrade his brain with useless bullshit.”  
  
“You hold it right there, Barbie,” he warned, though his voice was hesitant. She knew what he had done, why he had done it, and he was ashamed.  
  
“What would Alonna say?"   
  
He had forgotten just how well she knew to point her arrows. Devastation instantly marred his face and he shrunk back into a corner, curling in on himself.  
  
She nodded once with satisfaction. One down, two to go. She turned to Fred, whose eyes widened.   
  
Cordelia decided to tone it down and make rational arguments. She didn’t want to upset Fred unnecessarily and, while the woman had made strides in reclaiming her life, part of her would always be fragile, especially that which looked to her friends for validation. Cordelia shook her head in sorrow.   
  
“What are you doing here, honey? The work you’re doing is important, absolutely, but here? With these people? After everything they’ve done to us?”  
  
Fred bit her lip and lowered her eyes.  
  
“Angel may run this office, but that doesn’t remove the taint of the Senior Partners. It doesn’t negate the number of times they’ve tried to kill us all, or the havoc they’ve unleashed which we’ve had to clean up.”   
  
She gestured at the vampire. “The dumbass thinks he’s in control, but he’s not. He sold out, and to the worst possible people.”  
  
Fred turned and studied Angel.  
  
Gunn inched forward, his head cocked. “What do you mean?”  
  
“He’s here because he asked for a favor. Wolfram and Hart isn’t his reward; it’s his sentence.”  
  
Angel’s eyes widened. Oh, shit. She remembered; she remembered everything. Not only that, she knew things she shouldn’t.  
  
Cordelia’s gaze bored into Fred and Gunn. “You have a decision to make. Do you work for the good guys or for Angel? Because they’re no longer one in the same.”  
  
Fred whirled on Angel, her eyes full of wounded pride and heartbreak. Gunn was glaring and muttering under his breath.  
  
Cordelia took this as a good start. She wasn’t telling them anything they didn’t suspect, didn’t already know, but somehow along the way, Fred and Gunn had allowed themselves to stop questioning Angel and going along to get along.   
  
She turned to Wesley, whose eyes brimmed with both sadness and hope. She hated what she was about to do, but it couldn’t be helped; she was angry.   
  
“I will never forgive you for what you did to Connor. If you really thought he was in danger, why didn't you wait and come to me, Wes? I would have done anything for him, killed anyone who touched him, would have sacrificed myself to keep him safe. But you took that choice from me when you made your own, and that one choice has destroyed more than you will ever realize. You should have waited for me.”  
  
His face clearly expressed his complete bafflement.  
  
“Don’t worry," she said, "you’ll remember soon enough, and when you want answers, don’t let him,” she thumbed in Angel’s direction, “put you off.”   
  
She felt the vampire’s rage about to boil over, so she looked back to him. “How deficient _are_ you? Did you really think this was gonna work? You can’t just erase someone’s existence. You can’t wish them away because it’s what you want or because you believe it’s what’s best for them and everyone else. They might not remember, but they know _something’s_ wrong.”   
  
She looked at the others. “You have no idea what happened to me, do you?”  
  
“You Ascended…” Wesley began.  
  
She cut him off with a roll of her eyes. “That was just the beginning, and one of the few and only examples of my gross stupidity.”   
  
Knowing that Angel was about to interject, she decided it was a good time to put Harmony in her place.   
  
“If you even try to speak to me, you’re dust.” She remembered what Xander told Jesse after the latter was turned. “You’re not Harmony; you’re the thing that killed her. I might not have liked her much, but she deserved a hell of a lot of better.”   
  
She ignored the vampire’s tears and once again faced Angel. “What is she even doing here? You employ soulless vampires now? You wouldn’t suffer Dru or Darla or live, but you give this bitch a paycheck? What the hell is wrong with you?”  
  
“Harmony doesn’t kill.” His statement was backed up by vigorous nodding from the vampire in question.  
  
“So that it makes okay?” Cordelia demanded, shaking her head. “Intellectually, I can understand Junior’s presence,” she added, tossing a sneer at Spike, “since he has a soul now.”   
  
Spike frowned at her use of air quotes.   
  
“Yet you have an unchecked vampire,” she gestured to Harmony, “running around a building filled with mortals? Granted, they’re despicable vermin who will eventually roast in the pits of hell, but still.” She put her hands on her hips, eyes glittering dangerously. “And if you dare imply that she somehow reminded you of me, I’ll shove a stake so far up your ass you’ll be spitting splinters for a month.”  
  
He wisely held his tongue, but also held his ground when she made to move past him.  
  
Bored, she pushed forward, outraged when his hand curled around her arm to halt her progress.   
  
“Don’t you ever put your hands on me!” She picked him up by the lapels of his blazer and threw him into the far wall. “Hello, demon powers!”   
  
She smirked at his astonishment, even though he was already scrambling to right himself. She turned on her heel and embraced Lorne. Pulling back after a moment, she looked up into his eyes and wiped away the tear sliding down his cheek.  
  
“Welcome back, Princess. You have no idea how much you were missed.”  
  
She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. “You deserve so much more than this.” She sighed. “We’ll talk. Soon, I promise.”   
  
Without waiting for a response, she released him and crossed the threshold, curtly nodding at Spike. “Rapist."  
  
She sashayed out of the room, smirk plain on her face. She couldn’t wait to find out how _that_ little bombshell was received. She headed toward the elevators.   
  
She had one more stop to make before hauling ass out of Wolfram and Hart.


	2. Recriminations

Fred squeezed by Wesley and Gunn before skirting past the vampires and Lorne, ducking out of the hospital room and into the hall, watching as Cordelia impatiently tapped her foot before the bank of elevators.

Where was she going? Whom would she attack next? Fred was desperate to know more!  
  
Suddenly she sensed a presence behind her and turned around to discover a very amused Lorne.  
  
“You know exactly where the diva is headed, girly. If I were you, I’d follow. I don’t think this is a show you want to miss. I know I don't, but I'm stuck playing shepherd." He smirked. "Go have fun.”  
  
Her eyes lighted with glee and she all but ran to the nearest elevator in hot pursuit, trusting Lorne and Gunn to hold down the fort and fill her in later, because she was sure he was right: she _so_ did not want to miss this!   
  
Lorne chuckled as the woman bounced onto another elevator, her grin both infectious and obscene. Fred really was a character. He tuned back in to the others.  
  
“Rapist?” Angel repeated, glaring menacingly at Spike, who, if possible, paled beyond that of which he was believed capable. “What the hell is Cordelia talking about, William?”  
  
“He probably snuck in here while Cordy was unconscious,” a vicious Harmony sullenly remarked, pleased when she heard Angel begin to growl. “Or he attacked his precious Buffy.”  
  
At that, Angel all but flew across the expanse separating him from Spike, grabbing him by the neck and throwing him so hard against the wall the plaster cracked and gave way.   
  
“Is that it, Spike?" He cocked his head. "See, I don’t think even you have the balls to go after Cordy in here, but Buffy? That makes a lot more sense.”  
  
Spike sputtered, but offered no rebuttal.  
  
“If I find out Harmony is right,” Angel snarled, “you’re going to wish you were still a ghost.”   
  
With that, he released the other vampire and watched with satisfaction as Spike slid down the wall and collapsed to the floor in a heap.   
  
Angel turned on his heel and looked at the others. “Where’s Fred?"  
  
“She scampered off after the Fierce One,” Lorne chirped. He paused. “I think you should give Coma Girl a wide berth, Angelcakes,” he added in a low voice.  
  
Angel snorted. “I just got her back, Lorne. I’m not losing her again.”  
  
“So you’re gonna force her to stay against her will?” Gunn asked.  
  
The vampire halted in his stride. “No. No, of course not.”   
  
No. He wouldn't take any more choices from her.  
  
“I highly doubt Cordelia is finished with us,” Wesley said, still trying to discern her words against him, “but obviously she has a plan. The more you try to interfere with her, the greater the chance you will alienate her permanently.” He nodded to himself. “I think the best course of action is to wait and see what she wants to do.”  
  
Angel sighed and slumped his shoulders, knowing the man was right. “So what now?”  
  
“We go back to your office and wait," Gunn said. "She’ll come when she’s ready.”  
  
“But how is she back?” a confused Harmony asked. “The doctors all said she would never wake up.”  
  
“It’s obvious that she has an agenda,” Wesley replied. “What we must determine is if it is her own or that of the Powers.”  
  
Lorne snorted. “And when the hell has the Princess ever succumbed to the will of others?”  
  
Angel sighed. “We’re all doomed."  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Cordelia strode off the elevator, made a sharp right, and began strutting down the hall like it was a catwalk.

It was a great day not to be in a coma!   
  
She watched as demons and underlings wisely steered clear of her as she approached one of the corner offices. Errantly she wondered if they knew who she was before deciding it was irrelevant. At least these losers were capable of recognizing their betters.   
  
Of course, judging by where she was, _anyone_ would be their betters. Except maybe Willow and/or Buffy.   
  
She sailed past the harried secretary posted outside the suite.  
  
“Miss, do you have an appointment?” After being ignored, the assistant became even more flustered. “Miss! You can’t just go in there! You’ll have to wait!”  
  
Cordelia threw a dazzling smile over her shoulder. “Oh, I’ve been waiting for this longer than you can possibly imagine.”   
  
She threw open the door and barged inside.  
  
Her target looked up from the desk and frowned. “I don’t know who you are, but I advise you to be a bit more professional and knock before entering someone’s office.”  
  
Cordelia cocked her head and smiled. “I’ll be sure to in the future. I’d hate to disturb a _professional_ at work.” She peered down beneath the open foot of the desk. “Love the shoes.”   
  
She raised her eyes to meet the woman’s gaze. “Hello Eve. I’m Cordelia. And you’re about to get your ass kicked.”  
  
Fred discreetly hovered outside of the office door of the Liaison to the Senior Partners, covering her mouth with a hand and snickering.  
  
Eve’s eyes widened at the same time her mouth became a desert, her tongue gluing itself to her upper palate.  
  
Cordelia smiled. “I see my reputation precedes me.” She briefly faked humility. “Oh, who am I kidding? Of course it does!”  
  
The other woman suddenly averted her eyes and began straightening her desk, her mind desperately searching for something to say. This wasn’t supposed to have happened. Cordelia Chase was never intended to rise from her coma.   
  
“How nice for Angel and his sycophants that you have rejoined the living.”  
  
Cordelia threw back her head and cackled. “You calling anyone a sycophant is funnier than Angel eking out his Manilow covers. Listen up, whore, because have I got a brief for you.”   
  
She walked forward, planted her hands on Eve’s desk, and bent down.   
  
“The Higher Realms is a neat place, if a little boring, and there are all kinds of things to see, like you shedding your Ally McBeal suit and waving your pathetically small funbags in Angel’s face.”   
  
She paused and frowned. “See, I’m not _too_ mad at him, because whatever else he is, he’s a man, and you can’t expect them to act as anything other than the animals they are, but you? Honey, you already know you’re going to Hell, but there’s Hell and then there’s _special_ Hell.”  
  
Annoyance began creeping past Eve’s fear. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you’re obviously deluded and overestimating your own importance.”  
  
“So why are you sweating?," Cordelia asked blithely. "You’re human, right? At least biologically.” Her eyes narrowed. “I no longer am and while I might not have the power of a souled vampire, I have more than enough to deal with you.” She snorted. “I can’t believe a constructed slut is the best the Senior Partners could do. They really are slipping.”  
  
“I would watch my mouth if I were you.”  
  
“But you’re not," Cordelia shot back, "which is pretty much your whole problem, isn't it? Aside from your cow eyes and unfortunate hair, the only things you’ve got going for you are the space between your ears and the one between your legs. Now we all know what you can do with the latter, but why don’t you expend some effort and try _thinking_ for once?”   
  
She raised an eyebrow. “If the Senior Partners had any power over me, I’d already be dead." She smiled, baring her teeth. "See, I’m beyond their reach now, and it takes a lot more than Rosemary’s Baby to knock me down for the count.”  
  
“What are you doing here?” Eve flatly demanded.  
  
“In a moment I’ll be kicking your ass, but first, a warning. Ever since I woke up, those helpful visions have been coming on full-force.”   
  
She dropped to her haunches and stared into Eve’s eyes. “How’s Lindsey?” she purred. “Still plucking that guitar and wailing about how he's been done wrong? Hey, when you two were in bed, did he ever scream out Angel’s name? How does it feel to be nothing but a go-between? I guess some people are just destined to be forgotten.”  
  
Eve’s eyes hooded as she tried in vain to blank her face.  
  
Cordelia sighed. “That sad thing is I think you really love him. Lindsey, I mean.” She shook her head. “You know, there was a time when I honestly thought there might be something more to him than his smarmy smirks and his ability to hang a suit, but I was wrong. Maybe you’ll catch on or maybe you won’t. I really don’t care.” She leaned in. “But if you do love him, you’ll keep him far away from here.”  
  
Eve jerked back and widened her eyes.  
  
“Seer, remember? Those ugly tattoos won’t keep him safe much longer and he’s never going to take down Angel. If I were you, and thank god for small favors I’m not, I’d pack up my shit and get the hell out of town.” She rose to her feet. “Well, that was my good deed for the day. Now, about that ass kicking.”   
  
She grabbed a corner of the desk and sent it flying into the nearest wall, surveying the result with satisfaction.

“And that’s just not going to get old any time soon.” She seized the opportunity afforded her by Eve’s confusion, and grabbed the woman by her collar, hauling her to her feet. “I’d say it’s been fun, and it would almost be true, but I’ve got things to do.”   
  
She drew back her fist and socked Eve right in the eye, knocking her unconscious. As she watched the bitch sink to the floor, she gave a sigh of contentment. “Nope. Definitely not going to get old.”   
  
She spun on her heel and exited the office. “Let’s go, Fred. Hers was only the first name on my list.”  
  


 

* * *

  
  
  
Ten minutes later saw Cordelia storm Angel’s office.  
  
“Eve sends her regards,” she announced to the room.  
  
Gunn and Wesley began snickering.  
  
Angel blinked. “Is she still alive?”  
  
She shrugged. “Hey, this place has a hospital. If you care so much, say it with flowers."  
  
“I don’t.”  
  
“Good to know. So you only sleep with the people you don’t like." She tilted her head and considered that. "Well, I guess that _does_ explain Darla.”  
  
“Cordy …”  
  
“Save it. There are more important things to discuss.” She looked at Spike. “Like what the hell you’re doing here. How’s that soul working out?”   
  
She shook her head. “I’ve had my share of followers, but none as pathetic as you. Why do you keep sniffing after Angel’s leftovers? First Drusilla, then Buffy, then the soul, now this. Can’t you do anything on your own?” She smiled. “No matter how hard you try, you’re never going to be him, Spike. Dru taught you that years ago and, while it's no surprise you're slow, I'm happy to provide confirmation.”  
  
“Listen to me, you dizzy bint …”  
  
“Shut the fuck up,” Gunn barked.

  
“I almost feel sorry for you,” she continued. “I saw the number Buffy played on you, but what you did to her?” She shook her head. “There’s no excuse.”  
  
“You tried to rape Buffy,” Angel whispered at him.  
  
“Are you going to stake him?” asked an arch Cordelia. “After all, when it happened, he didn’t have a soul.”  
  
“You’re defending him?”  
  
“Please, I'm not the lawyer here. He’s paying in his own way, and his conscience is doling out more punishment than you ever could. That’s something you should understand.”  
  
Memories of Angelus haunted him as he considered her words, knowing that he couldn’t afford to act rashly in this situation. He had, after all, done much worse things, also to people he had loved.  
  
“As horrible as this is to say,” Cordelia added, “and as undeserving as she was for what happened, I’m glad it was her and not Dawn or Tara.” She frowned. “I suppose by then the Red Menace could have fought him off, but perhaps not as successfully as Buffy.” She cocked her head. “Anya was still a demon then; she would have killed him. Good for her.”  
  
Wesley and Gunn curled their lips at Spike, who now found himself unable to make eye contact with anyone. Yes, he was paying, and knew he always would be, but he would give anything if he could just shut out from his mind the memory of Buffy’s screams.  
  
“I'm surprised Willow suffered to him to live,” Wesley remarked.  
  
“She doesn’t know,” Cordelia said. “The only ones who do are Dawn and Xander.”  
  
Angel was incredulous. “And _Xander_ didn’t kill him?”  
  
“He probably would have,” she acknowledged, “but by the time he found Buffy on the bathroom floor, Spike had already high-tailed it out of Sunnydale.”   
  
She left unsaid his vow of revenge on Buffy and of how he went to Africa, determined to find a way to have the chip removed. The fact that he was instead granted a soul was the ultimate gotcha. Sometimes the Powers _did_ know what they were doing, though she would never admit it. She had seen too many of her friends undeservedly burned by their caprices.   
  
“It was only at Buffy’s insistence that Xander didn’t stake him when he returned, and let me tell you, the line for that was really long.” She sighed. “Whatever, it’s not our concern, no matter our feelings. Buffy forgave him and that’s the end of it.”  
  
“Do you know how they are?” Spike whispered. “The Watcher won’t tell us.”  
  
“Physically, they’re all fine. Emotionally, not so much.”  
  
“I am sure the destruction of the Hellmouth and their battle with the First left them…” Wesley began.  
  
“Sunnydale biting it is the least of their worries,” she interrupted. “Buffy and Faith are still arguing, arguing, arguing; Giles has sequestered himself in London; Willow flits back and forth between Rome and Rio with her new girlfriend, but is still mourning Tara; Buffy still hasn’t dealt with Joyce’s death; and Dawn is trying so hard to be an adult, she’s sacrificing what’s left of her childhood.”  
  
“And Xander?” Angel carefully asked, realizing she had skirted the issue.  
  
She knitted her fingers together and looked down at her hands. “Losing the eye was bad enough, but …”  
  
“He lost an eye? When?”  
  
“Caleb,” Spike spat.  
  
Angel furrowed his brow. “That preacher Buffy killed? She didn’t say anything about him hurting Xander.”  
  
“Because you would have tried to kill Caleb for her,” Cordelia said, “and she needed to do it herself. It was the only thing she could do for Xander.”  
  
“That poor boy,” Wesley murmured. “This was never his fight.”  
  
“It was never any of ours,” she interjected, “but we made the choices we made and long ago realized there would be consequences.”  
  
“There’s something more,” Angel hedged.  
  
She pursed her lips. “He’s … not doing well. He goes back and forth between Africa, where he finds new Slayers; to London, where he delivers them to Giles; and Rome.” She angrily shook her head. “They just won’t leave him alone!” She began pacing. “Always sticking their noses into his business, never letting him live his own life, so convinced they know who he is and what he needs. Bullshit!”  
  
And that’s when Angel realized that she had returned not for him, but for Xander.  
  
“Where’s the demon bird in all this?” Spike asked.  
  
“Anya’s dead.”  
  
He blinked and stepped back. “What?”  
  
“She died in the school, saving the world, not just protecting the chosen few with whom she was obsessed. That’s why Anya's a hero and you’re a schmuck.”  
  
He averted his eyes.  
  
“You’re going to him,” Angel stated.  
  
Her eyes flashed. “That’s right. I’m going to save the big jerk from himself, because the others sure as hell can’t do it.”  
  
He eyed her. “You’ve got something up your sleeve.”  
  
She widened her eyes and looked down at her bare arms. “Hello. Sleeveless.”  
  
“You want him back.”  
  
“I never let him go.”  
  
Angel swallowed and nodded, thinking of Buffy. He understood all too well.  
  
“I love you, Angel, and I always will, but there will never be anything more between us than friendship. You know that.”  
  
He set his jaw, nodded, and looked away. The others, including Spike, held their tongues.  
  
“You came back for Xander,” Angel finally said.  
  
She nodded. “I did. He’s my new mission. After I get you back on track, I’m leaving for Rome.”  
  
“Back on track?”  
  
“Cordy, you told Eve you’ve been having visions,” Fred anxiously interjected. “What did you see?”  
  
Wesley and Lorne peered intently at the Seer, who shifted restlessly.  
  
“Angel, we need to speak alone.”  
  
He nodded tersely and prepared to shepherd the others from the room, but Wesley quickly vetoed that idea.   
  
“If this concerns me, I’m not leaving.”  
  
“Me neither,” Gunn added.  
  
“Nor me,” Fred said, nodding.  
  
"What they said," Lorne said.  
  
Cordelia sighed and threw up her hands, knowing it was a lost cause. “Fine. Then you should probably sit down.”   
  
Angel was the only one who did.   
  
She eyed him. “Doyle was only the first.”  
  
His eyes widened as his gaze roved over the others.  
  
“I was supposed to be next."  
  
“Then why weren’t you?” Spike demanded.  
  
“Shut up,” Angel snarled.  
  
“Because there was something the Senior Partners didn’t see coming,” she replied, a small smirk playing on her lips before quickly dying, “but I can’t be sure that the rest of what I saw won’t still happen.”  
  
“Which is what?” Wesley asked.  
  
Instead of answering, Cordelia turned to face Gunn. “You played right into their hands.”   
  
She barreled ahead, despite his now waxy pallor, because this wasn’t the time for hand-holding. “Some legal fuck-up you’re supposed to make costs Fred her life.”   
  
There was no way she was going to mention Illyria. She was sure the Senior Partners were somehow listening and she wasn’t going to give them the opportunity to step up their plan.  
  
The other woman squeaked.  
  
“What happens to her, you can’t even imagine. Not just her life, but her soul. Blinked out as if it never even existed.”   
  
Finally, Gunn took a seat, his disbelief belied by the truth of her words.   
  
Cordelia sighed. “The aftermath won’t be pretty.”   
  
She then looked to a shaken Wesley. “You stab him before once again turning on Angel but, in the end, you're dead too."  
  
She watched as he plopped down in a chair and then turned to Lorne. “You go back to Pylea after Angel forces you to kill Lindsey.”   
  
Finally she looked to Angel. “You get … Steven … back for a little while, but then the Senior Partners kick it into high gear.”  
  
He set his jaw, desperately attempting to smother the hope that he might one day be reunited with Connor. He was unable even to posit compelling someone as gentle as Lorne into taking a life, even one as despicable as that belonging to Lindsey McDonald. “How?”  
  
She rolled her eyes. “An apocalypse, _duh_ , but the real thing this time. We’re talking capital A. The Circle of the Black Thorn.”  
  
“Shit,” both Angel and Spike muttered, wincing.  
  
“I didn’t see far enough to know if you two survive, but Gunn doesn’t.”   
  
Well, not in any way he would appreciate, at any rate. But she so wasn't going to tell him about that. He'd kill himself there and then if he knew he might become a vampire.  
  
She looked at the others, distressed to see the effects of her words, but refusing to betray any of her emotions. They needed to hear these things. They had been swimming in denial for far too long, when they should have been demanding answers.   
  
“This would be so much easier if we weren’t here, if … things … weren’t affecting you.”

  
“I believe you,” Fred whispered. “Ever since the things you said in the Infirmary, I can’t stop thinking about how _wrong_ it is that I’m here, that something’s off about how easily we accepted the takeover.”   
  
She looked at Gunn and Wesley, both of whom offered reluctant nods. They didn’t want to believe the picture Cordelia had just painted, but also knew her visions were true portents. They trusted her far more than they did Angel at the moment. They were coming to think perhaps they always had.  
  
Cordelia looked at Lorne, who sadly shook his head. “I don’t need you to sing, darling. I can feel your pain from here. I know you’re telling the truth as you believe it.” He sighed. “The question is how to keep all this from happening.”  
  
She turned back to Angel. “You’re required to stay here - it’s part of your contract - but I’m taking them with me.”  
  
He dropped his eyes, shame rolling off of him in waves. “The contract has stipulations.”  
  
She nodded, pain marring her face. “I know, and I’m so sorry, but I’m going to have to revoke that clause. We couldn’t save Doyle, Angel, but I have to save them, even if it’s at your expense.”   
  
She shook her head as the tears which had been threatening ever since she had awoken finally spilled over.

“I’m sorry,” she helplessly repeated.   
  
She ignored his confusion and backed up a few steps until she could trap all of them in her gaze. She whispered words no one, not even the vampires, could detect.  
  
And the spell broke.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Lorne was the first to buckle under the onslaught of memories assailing he, Fred, Gunn, and Wesley, his empathic abilities registering the screaming complexities of the deceit Angel had perpetrated against them.   
  
He remembered everything about Connor, from his birth, to Wesley’s theft, to his return, of the horrible violation Cordelia had been forced to endure, and the untenable choice with which Angel had been faced. None of it, however, was an adequate excuse for the choice Angel had made and the danger he had coerced them into facing.   
  
How could he have done this to them? Didn’t he know they would have done anything for his son? That they would have done anything to spare Cordelia the heartache of what her life had become? Lorne wasn’t angry at the decision Angel had made for all of them; he was furious because he had not even been paid the courtesy of being consulted.  
  
It was not memories of Connor which swirled about Wesley’s head, but the words Cordelia had leveled at him while in her hospital room.   
  
His betrayal of Angel was an act which would haunt him until the end of his life, but he had made his choice and he alone should have to suffer the consequences. Instead, that one poor decision had contributed to the downfalls of everyone he loved.   
  
Why _hadn’t_ he gone to Cordelia with his suspicions of the prophecy? If anyone would have been able to unearth the truth and ferret through the subterfuge, it was she. How could he have denied her that chance, that right? Regardless of her feelings for Angel, Wesley had no doubt that Cordelia would have done anything to protect Connor. How could he have taken it upon himself to steal a child from loving parents without having – without _demanding_ – all of the facts?   
  
But how could Angel have done this to them? Cordelia was correct: the existence of a person couldn’t be erased simply because another wished it so. Not only were he, Lorne, Fred, and Gunn deserving of the truth, but Connor and Cordelia were at the very least owed mourners, a chorus to witness their unwitting roles in this Greek tragedy of epic proportions, a horrifying amalgamation of _Oedipus_ and _Hippolytus_ : the return of the prodigal son, the figurative dethroning of the father, the attempts at patricide, and the taking of the mother as bride.   
  
For all intents and purposes, Cordelia had been Connor’s mother and he could not even imagine what her soul had been forced to witness, what it now had to bear, because he had been hasty, so sure in his moral indignation. Wolfram and Hart – dear God, how could be _working_ for them? – may have instigated this atrocity by raising Darla, bringing back Holtz and employing Sahjin, and by turning the firm over to Angel, but he himself had been their accomplice, unwitting or not.   
  
His theft of Connor had opened the door to Skip and Jasmine. He had all but raped Cordelia himself.  
  
As if reading his mind, Cordelia shook her head. “ _No_ , Wes. Of all the things I blame you for, that’s absolutely _not_ one of them.”  
  
Pain blazed in his eyes as he fell to his knees, his head dropping and slamming into his chest, tears pouring down his face. Her words, though welcomed, did little to assuage his guilt. She more than anyone, more than Angel or even Connor, had been completely innocent and yet suffered the most, paying for sins for which she bore no culpability.  
  
Gunn saw nothing but red, anger coursing though his veins and singing a war cry which demanded attention and recompense, matched only by the wailing dirge of self-recrimination rising to meet it. Yes, Angel and Wesley had been so stupid, he could have killed them and borne no guilt, but were his own actions any more excusable? Who had he become? Moreover, who had he _allowed_ himself to become?   
  
Cordelia’s question returned to haunt him: what would Alonna think of him now?   
  
He was fearful of the answer. Even though he no longer knew nor understood who he was, he knew shame. How had he strayed so far from his self-appointed path? When had he decided that it was acceptable to become part of the problem instead of the solution? He had survived one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in Los Angeles, the predators both human and other; he had organized his people to strike against those who hunted them; he had dedicated his life to eradicating the evil that plagued his city. What use was it now? He had sold out, and for what? No good reason he could discern.  
  
Angel was helpless to consider anything but his friends, their scents of rage and guilt causing both his soul and demon to recoil and retreat, leaving him an empty husk. Only now did he recognize that feeling was nothing new; he had been experiencing it for months, almost a year really, and he realized that it was predicated by Cordelia’s absence.   
  
He _did_ need her to keep him on track, to make him remember what he was fighting and why he railed against it. Suddenly he understood Buffy and Xander’s relationship in a way he had never considered and regretted every slur against their bond. All of that time, all of the fighting, all of the hateful words, and it was based in something so common as envy.   
  
Regardless of Xander’s personal feelings, Angel’s relationship with Buffy must have appeared as noxious to the boy as his own with Darla had to Cordelia. It was no mystery why Xander and Cordelia had been drawn to each other; in all of the ways which counted, they were far more alike than different. Each was the Heart of their family and each had been broken far more than that which anyone should have to endure.  
  
Angel’s ruminations successfully provided the distraction Fred needed and she seized the opportunity to launch herself at the vampire, fists and words flying, even as tears of rage scalded her eyes. In this moment, there was no one and nothing she hated more than this creature. How had she blinded herself to what he was, to the treachery of which he was capable?   
  
His demon had always been incidental as far as she was concerned – she understood Angelus, but considered him Other – but never had Angel’s humanity seemed more circumspect than this moment. As outraged as she was on behalf of Connor and Cordelia, as angry as she was for Wesley’s betrayal and Gunn’s choices of late, she felt so deeply a personal violation, it left her breathless. She wanted to peel off her skin just to feel clean.  
  
“You asshole!”  
  
For some reason he would never be able to explain, Spike felt compelled to defend Angel but was summarily surrounded by the other three men. He knew he could make short work of them, but Cordelia was another matter entirely.   
  
He remembered with vivid clarity how she had casually thrown Angel across her hospital room as if he were a rag doll. Perhaps it was only because she had surprised the other vampire, but Spike wasn’t willing to take the chance; the bint was half-demon, after all. He was sure that, somewhere, Anya was laughing her ass off at him and it almost made him smile. It was also painfully obvious how much Cordelia loved Angel, no matter how angry she was at him, and he felt vaguely resentful.  
  
Angel welcomed every blow and condemnation, knowing Fred’s wrath was justified. He wondered how the hell he ever thought he would get away with this. She was just as blameless as Cordelia and Connor, yet he hadn’t given a second thought to taking her will from her, convinced by his belief he knew best. He was galled by his own hubris and it was painful to consider that Cordelia had been lingering in the Higher Realms, forced to bear witness to his ever-evolving stupidity and helpless to stop it. No wonder she woke up pissed; he was just surprised she hadn’t staked him on sight.  
  
“That’s enough, Fred,” Cordelia said.  
  
All of the fight fled the other woman and she pushed back from Angel and stalked away, but not before whirling on her heel to face him once more and cracking him sharply across the face, so hard it jarred his teeth. Strangely, he was grateful.  
  
Fred returned to Cordelia’s side. “What about Connor? Will he remember now?”  
  
“No,” she immediately replied, if only to reassure Angel. “The only ones who know are us and the Senior Partners.” She frowned. “Possibly Eve.” She sighed. “Which means that Lindsey might find out.”  
  
Gunn snorted. “He can’t do anything.”  
  
“Don’t underestimate him,” Cordelia warned, “although at this point he’s more concerned with Eve than anything. If we can get her out of here safely, it should neutralize him.” She shrugged. “If they can outrun the Senior Partners, I say let them.”  
  
“You think he’ll give up that easily?” Spike asked. “He’s out for blood.”  
  
“I’ll take care of him.”  
  
“You’ll have to find him first.”  
  
“Oh, I know where he is,” she said with a flinty smile, “and he and I are going to have a nice little chat about impersonating my dead friend.”   
  
Spike would gladly pay to see that and said as much.   
  
“If you want to come, fine. After all, he snowed you, so you have to right to be pissed. But no killing.”  
  
He mumbled under his breath but nodded his acceptance of her condition.  
  
“I want out of here,” Fred declared. “I never want to set foot in this place again.” She turned her back to Angel. “I can’t even look at him. I don’t even want to hear his voice.”  
  
“It’s okay, hon,” Cordelia soothed. She turned to the others. “Why don’t you wait outside for a minute and let me talk to Angel.”  
  
Gunn threw a venomous look at the vampire before grabbing Fred and storming from the office. Wesley appeared miserable, blanketed in a shroud of his own pain, but he too said nothing to Angel before departing. There was much Lorne wanted to say. He could feel all of their anger and pain, but he also felt the weight of the guilt both Angel and Wesley were experiencing, and he knew he had no words which could either alleviate or further propagate their anguish. He too, left.  
  
“Now, Spike,” Cordelia reminded him.  
  
He was torn. He wanted to see her rip Angel to shreds but also felt that damnable need to defend, or at least protect, him. Seriously, what was that about? Shaking his head, he stalked out of the room.  
  
She took a deep breath. “There are things I need to say, and you need to listen to them.”  
  
Defeated, he nodded, still unable to look at her.  
  
“Eyes front, Angel.”  
  
Swallowing, he raised his gaze to her and waited.  
  
“You’ve really fucked up here, but I understand why you did what you did.”  
  
He set his jaw and ignored the tears which spilled down his face.  
  
“I know you were just trying to protect me and Connor,” she continued, “but this isn’t something that can be blinked away.”   
  
She knitted her fingers together to refrain from tugging at her hair, a childish impulse she hadn’t experienced since sixth grade.   
  
“I was raped, Angel. My body, my mind, my soul.” Her breath hitched. “It was rape over, and over, and over again. I can still feel her inside of me, even though I know she’s gone. There are holes I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fill.”   
  
She held up her hand to stall the interruption she felt coming. “Shut up and listen. You owe me that much.”   
  
He nodded and she inhaled sharply.   
  
“I don’t blame you for Jasmine or Skip or any of that.” The look in his eyes made it apparent that he didn’t believe her, but there was nothing she could do about that; it was a realization he would have to reach on his own. “Skip was my fault. What I blame you for is not knowing.”   
  
She threw up her hands and began pacing. “How could you not know? Out of all of them, you were the one I was counting on to recognize that she wasn’t me. She wasn’t even a good actress! Her look, her walk, her speech. _None_ of it was mine.” She slammed her hands down on his desk. “How could you _not know_?!”  
  
“Because I didn’t want to.”  
  
The immediacy of his reply wasn’t what surprised her; that he had an answer at all did.   
  
“What does that mean?”  
  
He fidgeted. “I was just so grateful to have you back, I didn’t care.” He ducked his head. “Of course I saw the differences, but I let myself think it was because of your Ascension, or that the demon part of you was asserting itself. I didn’t … I didn’t care. All I knew that I had you back. That was all that mattered.”  
  
“You’re lying.”  
  
He was startled. “I’m not.”  
  
“I watched you, watching Connor and _her_.” She angrily shook her head. “Denial isn’t going to cut it here, vampire. You damned well knew there is no way in hell I ever would have taken to bed the boy I thought of as my son. Not even you’re that stupid. You were jealous, and you were hurt, and you let those emotions run roughshod over what you _knew_ to be true.”  
  
He had no defense. She was right, even if he had never before considered his actions in that light.   
  
“What else did you see?” he quietly asked.  
  
“Everything,” she whispered, her voice haunted. “I watched Connor try to kill you. I watched him fall in love with what passed for me.” She bit her lip and choked back a sob. “You have no idea what it was like to watch that, to see my baby looking at me with lust in his eyes.”   
  
She shook her head. “Of all the evil I’ve seen, of all the evil I’ve fought, _that_ was the most heinous perversion of innocence I’ll ever know. That thing raped him as much as it did me. Denying him his memories doesn’t change what happened. Don’t you get that? Magic doesn’t erase biology. The firm is winning, Angel. They’ve deterred you from your mission, you’ve compromised your own redemption, you’ve sacrificed all of us to protect Connor, but what happens when this deal no longer suits the Senior Partners?   
  
"Hello! This was all engineered. Once they’re done with you, who do you think they’ll go after?”  
  
Insight crashed into him.  
  
She nodded. “They want Connor as much as they want you. They’re the ones who brought about the prophecy to begin with! They're the ones who brought back Darla. They _wanted_ him to be born. Why? Once you’re gone, who’s going to protect him? They’ll renege the spell, he’ll lose his mind, and then he’ll be theirs. And _you’re_ the one who will have done that to him.”  
  
His mind whirled with the possibilities she had raised. No, _probabilities_.   
  
How could he have been so blind? How could he have allowed his desperation to get the better of him? Everything he had done had been for his son, but in the end, he was the one to place Connor in the crosshairs.  
  
Cordelia scowled. “Maybe you thought I’d never wake up and that you wouldn’t have to deal with me or with reality, but I’m here, and I’m pissed, and there’s no getting around it. I can feel Lilah’s blood on my hands, Angel.”  
  
He flinched. “It wasn’t you.”  
  
“That doesn’t matter," she snapped. "It was my body; it was _my_ hand that killed her. I have to live with that. I have to live with those memories. And as much as I hated her, as much she deserved to die, I don’t deserve to bear the responsibility.”  
  
“You don’t deserve any of this.”  
  
“Tell me something I don’t know!” she screamed. “Let’s talk about who doesn’t deserve things, okay? Connor doesn’t deserve having his mind raped _again_ to quell your own ego? Fred and Gunn didn’t deserve you cheapening their belief in you so that you could keep them at your side. Did taking Wesley’s memories change how betrayed you feel for what he did?”   
  
She resumed her pacing. “Don’t you get it? You played right into the hands of the Senior Partners! They spent four years trying to corrupt you and, in the end, you did it for them! Everything we’ve done, everything we’ve sacrificed, you just threw away!”  
  
“I didn’t know what else to do!”  
  
“Bullshit! You couldn’t handle the part you played, what happened because of your own stupidity and inaction, and under the guise of doing _what’s best_ , you compromised all of us! Who the hell are you to make life and death decisions for us? What part of _team_ did you forget? We’re not your toadies, we’re your equals, and you seem to forget that all too often. Whether it’s firing us or bringing us here or _whatever_ , haven’t you learned by now that you don’t know everything?”  
  
“I was trying to protect all of you! I was trying to make sure that Connor would have the life he deserved! That you would get the help you need!”  
  
She scoffed. “And what the hell has Wolfram and Hart done for me, Angel? What have they even done since you put me in that room? Not a damn thing! If it were up to them, I never would have woken up!”  
  
“Then how did you?”  
  
Her eyes widened before hooding. “There are other forces at work here.”  
  
“And somehow Xander figures into it.”  
  
She gave a curt nod. “He does.”  
  
“Why him?”  
  
“And not you? Isn’t that what you really want to know?”  
  
“You’re goddamned right! You couldn’t find your way back to me, but you could for _him_?”  
  
She sneered. “Oh, yes, you were certainly thinking about me when you were screwing Eve into that couch. And let’s not forget about Gwen and Nina and god only knows who else.”  
  
“It was solace,” he whispered.  
  
“That’s what Anya told Xander after she slept with Spike. It’s a weak excuse at best, and certainly beneath you.”  
  
“You saw what was happening in Sunnydale?”  
  
“Random much? Yeah, I did, and by the way,” she rolled her eyes, “ _cookie dough_?”  
  
He was absurdly grateful he couldn’t blush.  
  
“I watched her … relationship … with Spike, and let me tell you, they’re both freaks! Seriously, what kind of moron invites the vampire who tried to rape her into her home, with her little sister and all of those girls who weren’t even Slayers yet?!  
  
"And I can’t even _believe_ I’m about to stick up for Faith, but where do Buffy and Willow get off treating her like dirt? Willow tried to blow up the fucking world and almost killed all of her friends in the process! She _did_ kill two people. Sure, they were lowlifes, but still. I always knew she was off the beam.” She shook her head. “ I watched Tara die, and then Anya, and all of those Potentials who hadn’t the slightest clue what they were fighting.”   
  
She clenched her fists. “And Caleb, that miserable piece of shit. Do you have any idea what it was like to watch the son of a bitch gouge out Xander’s eye with his thumb? You could ask Buffy and Spike. After all, they just stood there and watched it happen.”  
  
Angel indulged in a bit of standing and watching himself as Cordelia worked herself more and more into a righteous furor.   
  
He couldn’t blame her, unable to imagine the horrors and atrocities she had been forced to watch: the defiling of her body; the corruption of Connor; his own countless stupidities; her friends nothing but pawns in a battle which would most likely never be decided; the destruction of her hometown; the maiming of the first boy she had loved; the attempted violation of another girl who had once been an integral part of her life; the near destruction of the world at the hand of a girl she had known since childhood; the slaughter of others, whether known to her or not.  
  
So, yeah, he figured she had the right to pitch a bitch fit like the world had never seen.  
  
She surprised him, however, by reining herself in. “Look, everything I told you about the others is true. If they stay here, they’ll be picked off one by one, even going so far as to turn on each other in the process.”  
  
“You never said what was to happen to Fred,” he observed.  
  
“No, I never did, and I won’t. You know the Senior Partners are listening, right? I don’t even know if _they_ yet know what they have planned for her. Or are planning. Or will plan.” She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’m not going to be the one to put ideas into their heads.”  
  
He nodded. Her argument was sound. “Why Xander?”  
  
“Are you still on that?” she demanded. “Be honest with me about something, okay? Totally, seriously honest, and don’t spare my feelings, because I’d never do that for you.”  
  
“Apparently.” He sighed. “Okay, brutal honesty.”  
  
“If I hadn’t Ascended, if I had met you on the beach that night, if there was never a Jasmine or any of the rest of it, do you believe we would have been together all this time?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“And if Buffy had wanted you back? If she came to you and said that she finally understood what being with you involved and that she was ready to face all of it, ready to deal with Angelus and the possibilities? If Willow found a way to make your soul permanent and it would never be an issue again?”  
  
His mouth fell open. He didn’t answer; he didn’t need to.  
  
“That’s how I feel about him,” she whispered. “I love you, Angel. You know I do, and I always will, and I know  what you feel for me is completely different than what you feel for her, because of course we both know that there’s no woman who could ever compete with me, but I can’t and won’t let myself be used because what you really want isn’t available. I deserve more than that.”   
  
She gently caressed his face. “And so do you.”   
  
He opened his mouth to protest, and she held a finger to his parted lips. “Maybe I’m wrong and it could have worked then, but now?” She shook her head. “You’ll never be able to look at me and not see Connor, despite knowing that it was never me at all, and I love you too much to put you through that.”  
  
He leaned his mouth toward hers, but at the last moment, she offered her cheek. As he kissed it, breathing in her scent and wondering how he had survived this long without it, she quietly said, “We need to leave now, before they can stop us.”  
  
He repressed a sigh, knowing she was right, but held onto her longer than necessary, trying to memorize the feeling of her body against it, committing to memory her every curve, mapping in his mind every freckle.   
  
“I know.” He paused. “You’re never coming back, are you?”  
  
Her arms went around his neck. “No. I’ll never come back to L.A., but this isn’t the end. When you finally figure out that there’s nothing here for you, come find me.”  
  
“Andhe won’t be upset about that?”  
  
“I don’t care if he is or not. No one tells me what to do and no one picks my friends but me. He knows that.” She nestled her head in the crook of her neck. “I wish you could understand him like I do. You two have more in common than you ever realized.”  
  
“Maybe that was the problem all along.”  
  
She smiled. “Maybe it was.”  
  
He cleared his throat. “Let's go. You can brief me on the way.”  
  
She nodded and headed for the door.  
  
“What about Harmony?” he suddenly asked.  
  
She halted in her stride, her shoulders stiffening. “She’ll be fine.”   
  
She wanted to add that no one cared enough about Harmony for the vampire to be an issue, but even she couldn’t be that tactless. Besides, the other girl would be a useful spy.  
  
He hesitated a moment longer and then followed her out into the lobby.  
  
“Well?” Gunn barked.  
  
“Cordy had a vision,” Angel smoothly began, after quietly instructing Harmony to summon Eve and send the woman to the garage. “Let’s suit up. It’s time Angel Investigations remembered its mission.”  
  
The others, save Spike, searched his face, wondering what had been said, what had been decided, and if Angel was simply fronting for the Senior Partners, before deciding they didn’t care. Cordy’s return has precipitated one of their own, and it felt damned good to be back in the saddle. Maybe they could finally get something right.  
  
“Where are we going?” Wesley asked.  
  
Angel looked to Cordelia, who grinned.  
  
“To see an old friend,” she purred with a poisonous smile, “and remind him that the dead should be allowed to rest in peace.”


	3. It's What She Does: Reunion

Cordelia paced restlessly about the garage under the watchful eye of Angel and the others as they waited for Eve to show.   
  
All of this was happening a little more quickly than she had planned, but the sooner it was over, the sooner she could get to Xander. She commanded her brain to ignore the butterflies swirling about her stomach at the thought of seeing him again, forcing herself to accept the fact that he was no longer the boy she had known. She had changed as well, of course, but not to the degree he had.   
  
At her core, she was very much the same person she had always been, just a little older and even more fabulous. Things had happened to her - terrible things - and while she would never be able to divorce herself completely from what Jasmine had done while in her body, part of her still felt removed from it all. She knew that separation was tenuous at best and would erode further the longer she remained in Los Angeles.   
  
She needed to put distance between herself and the city, and especially between she and Connor. He was due to show up within several weeks and that was a family reunion she had no interest in attending. If only she could force herself to stop loving him, to stop picturing the baby she had held in her arms.   
  
She absently rubbed a hand over her stomach, over the scar from the rebar, behind which no uterus laid. She would never have children of her own thanks to Jasmine and, because of that bitch, the child she had considered hers was lost to her forever. Her furor instantly reignited.  
  
Angel and Spike recoiled at the rage she was silently releasing and eyed each other before shrugging. They didn’t see why they needed to wait for Eve, but Cordelia didn’t feel like explaining, so they decided to follow her lead. Neither was anxious for her to focus her wrath on them.  
  
Gunn and Fred anxiously watched Cordelia, wanting to go to her but sensing she would consider their good intentions an intrusion, so they held back. Wesley, meanwhile, was watching Angel, desperately wishing he could take back what he had done, that he could return Connor to his father and give Cordelia back her son; indeed, give her back the part of her life he inadvertently played a part in stealing. There was nothing he could do, however, and the bitter regret made his mouth taste like he had just used it to rinse a load of gym socks. Lorne stood and impassively watched all of them.  
  
“What’s the plan, Princess?” he asked.  
  
“First we deal with Lindsey, as soon as his bitch of a girlfriend sashays her flat ass down here. Then we kiss Wolfram and Hart goodbye and leave it to these two yokels,” she said, gesturing toward the vampires.  
  
“And then?” Lorne prompted.  
  
“We’re off to Rome. Xander’s left Africa only for a short time, so the window is small.”  
  
“What the rush? We could just go to Africa," Gunn said.  
  
She smirked. “Because I have business with the Good Witch of the North.”  
  
The others looked blank, but Angel and Spike warily eyed each other.  
  
“Er, Seer,” Spike began, “you do know that Red is All Powerful Whatsit now, right?”  
  
“Please. She was defeated with a yellow crayon.”  
  
Flummoxed, he was poised to ask for clarification, still in the dark about much of the events surrounding Willow's meltdown two years previous, when the elevator dinged and Eve stepped out, her heels clacking loudly on the pavement. Her jaw set and shoulders squared, she was defiant as stalked over to them and crossed her arms.  
  
“What’s this all about?” she demanded.  
  
Cordelia ogled the woman’s heavily bandaged nose and two black eyes. “That’s definitely an improvement to your looks,” she said sweetly.  
  
Eve grimaced and gingerly touched the end of her nose, eliciting a sharp whine and pained wince.  
  
“We’re going to see the Singing Cowboy,” Cordelia continued, “and then Angel is going to help you and the shyster skip town.”  
  
“He is?”  
  
“I am?” Angel asked.  
  
“You don’t want her and Lindsey hanging around and causing trouble.” She glared at the other woman. “Not that they’re capable of much, but they’re annoying and would get in your way. Besides, getting rid of her means one less spy for the Senior Partners.”  
  
He slowly nodded. He didn’t want to assist Lindsey in any way but, all things considered, it would be best to have him gone. He still had trouble reconciling that he was to have asked Lorne to dispose of the lawyer. If Lindsey could be dispatched by nonviolent means, it was in everyone's best interest to do so.  
  
“He won’t leave,” Eve warned. “He has an agenda and hasn’t told me what that is.”  
  
“But I know what it is,” Cordelia smiled, “and I have a plan.”  
  
“The world is doomed,” Spike drawled.  
  
Her eyes flashed. “It just might be if you don’t shut up and know your role here.”  
  
“Which is what?” he barked.  
  
“Which is doing exactly what I tell you, or I’ll stake you here and now, soul or not. I didn’t create you, I was never in love with you, I don’t find you funny, and peer pressure is not going to coerce me into letting you live in my basement. That Buffy allowed you to live after the Initiative chipped you is proof of her idiocy. That Angel continues to put up with you is proof that he’s a dumbass who desperately needs me to kick his.”  
  
“How am I supposed to do this without you?” Angel quietly asked.  
  
She sighed, ignoring Spike’s sulk.   
  
“It’s a little late to be asking that now, isn’t it?" she asked, though not unkindly. "This is your mess and you’re going to have to clean it up yourself." She sighed. "I can’t help you anymore, Angel. I’ve done everything I can.”  
  
“So you’re just going to leave.”  
  
“There comes a time when it’s necessary. I can’t pretend everything that happened just … didn’t.”   
  
She cocked her head. “The biggest mistake Xander and Willow ever made was never getting away from Buffy for any considerable length of time. We all signed up and that was our decision, just like it’s ours when we choose to walk away. I’ll continue to fight, but in my own way and on my own terms. I’m not choosing Xander over you, Angel, nor does my leaving mean I love you any less.   
  
"I just love myself more." She met his eyes. "This time, for the right reasons.”  
  
He nodded as her words registered, but it would be a while before he could accept them. "I never thought it would come to this.”  
  
“I never thought I wouldn’t trust you.”  
  
He dropped his eyes. “Ouch.”  
  
“Truth hurts.”  
  
“It does.” He smiled sadly. “I’d forgotten how much, and it’s only now I realize how badly I've needed to hear it.”  
  
  


* * *

 

  
The driver followed the directions provided by Cordelia and she was the first to vault from the limousine when it pulled in front of Lindsey’s downtrodden motel. She strutted up to the entryway and didn’t bother waiting for the others. If they wanted to follow her, they could; if they didn’t, she couldn't care less.   
  
She was searching the lobby in vain for an elevator as the others filed in behind her.   
  
“What kind of tool lives in a ten-floor walkup without an elevator? Lame.” She sighed and trudged toward the stairs, Eve hot on her heels. “Do the world a favor and invest in a Tic-Tac.”  
  
Eve ignored her, anxious to get to Lindsey. She was followed closely by Angel and filled with disbelief she was counting on Cordelia Chase to protect Lindsey from him. Fred trailed Angel, staring daggers into his back, flanked by Wes and Gunn. Lorne was next, while Spike brought up the rear.  
  
Cordelia strode up the only door without a number, which only made it stand out all the more. Shaking her head, she poised her hand to knock, but thought better of it and kicked the door open. She sauntered inside, sized the place up, deemed it barely a step above Roach Motel, and looked around for Lindsey.   
  
“Yoo-hoo!”  
  
Fred snickered and pushed her way past Angel, whose entrance was blocked due to lack of invitation. Eve hesitated a moment and then followed suit, as did Wesley and Gunn. Lorne and Spike remained with Angel and waited to see how Cordelia was going to play this.  
  
“Well,” came the soft, amused drawl, “look who’s alive and … kicking?”  
  
“Witty,” she sneered. “How are you, Lindsey? Finished with the occupational therapy? Can you finally jack off once more?”  
  
He glared at her over the slender shoulder of Eve, who had rushed into his arms. “To what do I owe this displeasure?”  
  
“Well,” Cordelia sang, inclining her head, “just thought I’d drop in on my way out of town to say hi and nice knowing you. Oh! And to give you a heads-up that the Senior Partners know all about your gross tattoos and don’t care. They’d love nothing more for you to sneak into the firm and harass Angel."   
  
She bit her lip. "Gee, I wonder why? It couldn’t be because you won’t walk out alive.” She tilted her head, looked up at the ceiling, twirled a lock of hair around her finger and cocked a hip. “Could it?”  
  
His glare deepened to a glower. “Too bad Angel can’t come in, if only for your safety.”  
  
Cordelia clucked. “And here I was thinking that, as evil as you are, you still have standards. So women and children _are_ expendable when the situation demands. I bet Darla knew that, too.”  
  
“Don’t you speak her name."  
  
“Or you’ll, what? Hit me? Run me through with that sword in your knockoff Kenneth Cole duffel by the door? Mojo me with your creepy ink?” She scoffed. “As if. I’m sure your puny lawyer mind is trying to work out how I’m back, but what you should be considering is why and what other tricks I might have up my sleeve.”  
  
“Sleeveless,” Wesley reminded her.  
  
She grimaced, disbelieving of how easily she had walked into that one. She chalked it up to the coma and shrugged.   
  
“Point is, I’m not scared of you, Lindsey. I never was. And I really don’t think you want to hurt me, so why don’t you tuck your dick back into your pants before I cut it off, and listen to what I have to say?”  
  
Spike and Gunn snickered and then scowled at each other.  
  
“Do I have a choice?” Lindsey asked.  
  
“There’s always a choice,” she said blandly, “but I thought you were too smart to make a move without having all the facts. I guess I overestimated you. I’m sure I’m the only who ever has.”   
  
She turned on her heel to leave.  
  
At Eve’s harried prompting, he called for Cordelia to wait.  
  
She turned back to face him. “Your soul is forfeit; you know this. You still have a life to live, so don’t waste it trying to best Angel. If you want, I can get out a ruler and we can settle it once and for all.”  
  
“Just say what you have to say and get out,” he snarled.  
  
She raised a brow. “Fine. Angel will kill you, Lindsey. That’s not prophecy; it’s reality. Those tattoos are worthless other than for getting you into the firm undetected. So if you’re ready to die, just walk over to Angel and say hi. I’m sure he’d be happy to oblige.”  
  
The vampire grinned. “More than."  
  
“I’m not scared of you,” Lindsey hissed.  
  
“This isn’t about being scared, you moron!” Cordelia barked. “This is about staying alive!” She shook her head. “Look, if you died in the next ten seconds, I would stuff your ass full of candy and use your corpse as a piñata. The only one here who does care, the only person in the world who would mourn you, is standing next to you. I know you love her, Lindsey, so answer me this: what happens to her after you die? Do you care? If not, I’m out. If you do, suck it up and listen.”  
  
He fell silent for a long time, debating her words, and finally replied with a nod.  
  
“Get out. Take Eve and leave Los Angeles today, while you still can.” She paused. “This is it, Lindsey. This is your only chance. After I leave here, I’m leaving town and will forget all about you and your concubine. If Angel wants to kill you – and he _does_ – he’ll do so, and no one else is going to raise a hand to stop him.”  
  
Gunn nodded. “Word."  
  
Spike appeared gleeful.  
  
“Why do you care?” Lindsey demanded of her.  
  
“I don’t. If Angel killed you right now, I’d do nothing but point and laugh. What worries me is what killing you would do to _him_. And, really, you’re pretty much useless to both sides, since you're incapable of picking one. So why would you want to go out like a sniveling bitch when you could take all that money you embezzled, hop on a plane with the mystical science experiment you love, and try to live?”  
  
He stared at her, his eyes narrowed. “What are you?”  
  
A cryptic smile was her only response and the others looked at her in confusion.  
  
“I’m beyond you,” she finally said. “Don’t trouble that pretty head trying to figure it out, because you won’t."  
  
He smirked. “You think I’m pretty."  
  
“Aside from the crow’s feet etched into your skin from all the sneering, you’re all right,” she conceded. “Even after Darla, I was willing to give your taste in women the benefit of the doubt, but I see now what a mistake that was.” She sighed. “So what’s it going to be, Hook? Are you going with Eve or jetting downtown to keep Lilah company?”  
  
He pursed his lips. “I have to think about it.”  
  
“You don’t. This is a one-time offer and expires the moment I step over the threshold. Make your decision now, while you’re still able to make one at all.”  
  
He curled a lip and then looked down at Eve. “What do you think?”  
  
“Do it,” she urged. “Let’s just leave. Who cares why she’s doing it?” She grabbed his arm, her nails like talons. “I don’t want to die, Lindsey.”  
  
He searched her eyes for what seemed like minutes, before he slowly nodded, a look of defeat on his face.   
  
Cordelia nodded with satisfaction. “Good choice. There’s a second car waiting downstairs to take you both to LAX, where you’ll find two tickets waiting at the Lufthansa terminal. You can pick your destination once you get there, and the tickets are untraceable by the firm.”  
  
“How did you manage that?”  
  
“I have many skills.”  
  
“You don’t expect me to thank you, do you?”  
  
“Not at all.”   
  
She crossed the room in two quick strides, threw Eve aside, grabbed Lindsey by his neck and hauled him into the air, amused by his feeble kicking.   
  
“If you ever try to use Doyle’s memory again – if you even dare speak his _name_ – I will know and I will find you, and you will pray that Angel had killed you.” She smiled. “I’m not going to ask you if you understand me, because I know you do.”   
  
She gave a contented sigh. “Well, I can’t say it’s been fun, but it has been real.” With that, she threw him back six feet, where he crashed through the wall and landed in his dingy bedroom. “Later.”  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
Wesley, Gunn, Lorne, and Fred had left them standing on the tarmac to make last-minute changes to the flight plan, alternating their course to ensure anyone following would have difficulty discerning the final destination. Spike finally moved away after Angel detailed in creative ways his plan to dismember the other vampire.  
  
“Effective,” Cordelia noted, watching Spike slink away.  
  
“He’s never been one for subtle.”  
  
“Apparently.”  
  
Silence descended and they looked at everything but each other.  
  
“I do love you,” she finally whispered.  
  
“I know.”  
  
“I have to leave, Angel. If I stay, I’ll be destroyed, and I don’t just mean killed.”  
  
His jaws flexed as he gritted his teeth. “How did this happen?”  
  
She laughed, but it was brittle. “We both made some extremely bad choices. Now we have to deal with the consequences.”  
  
He shuffled his feet, pleased yet guilty that she wasn't placing the blame squarely on his shoulders, though he knew he bore the brunt of the responsibility. “Connor?”  
  
“He’s coming. I don’t know when, precisely, but it will be sooner rather than later.” She hesitated. “You need to decide if losing your son is worse than never knowing him.”   
  
She was yet unsure when she would be ready to make the same decision, but knew that time would eventually come.  
  
“He could never forgive me.”  
  
She smiled. “You’d be surprised what’s forgivable. Five years ago, I couldn’t get past a stupid kiss." She shrugged. "Buffy couldn’t get over you were a vampire. Faith was just a murderer cooling her jets in prison and Willow tried to destroy the planet. Yet here we all are.”  
  
He nodded absently, looking at the others who were waiting for Cordelia at the top of the stairs to the plane. “You’ll take care of them?”  
  
“I don’t need to. That’s really the whole point, Angel. They can take care of themselves if given the chance.”  
  
He ducked his head, abashed, before finally nodding.  
  
“I’ll talk to Giles, make some inroads,” she continued. “This rift is stupid and it’s hurting both groups more than it’s helping. Even with all the new Slayers, we’re still small. It’s dumb to alienate ourselves from each other.”  
  
“Thanks,” he whispered.  
  
She saluted him. “Ambassador Cordy, at your service.”  
  
He swallowed heavily. There was so much he wanted to say to her, but words had all but fled as the plane powered up. “Did you mean what you said before, that this isn’t the end?”  
  
She reached up and caressed his face. “There is no end.” Her eyes became hazy. “If I’ve learned anything, it’s that. Nothing ends, Angel. We go on, we learn, and we become better.”  
  
He gave a jerky nod. “If you ever need anything …”  
  
“I’ll call,” she promised. “And if you ever …”  
  
“I'll know just who to ask for.”  
  
She grinned. “It’s about time.”  
  
He leaned down to kiss her and again she offered her cheek before throwing her arms around him. He was amazed at the strength she now possessed in addition to how well she controlled it. He buried her face in hair, memorizing her scent, and was unsurprised when she was the first to pull away.   
  
“I love you.”  
  
She rolled her eyes. “Duh.” In the next moment, all mirth left her face. “I love you, too.”   
  
She turned, but abruptly halted. “Oh. And you’re welcome.”   
  
Then she was gone.  
  
He watched her walk away and took a small measure of comfort when Spike came to stand beside him.  
  
“That’s a hell of a bird, Angelus.”  
  
“She always was.”  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
She walked quickly towards the plane and, as much as it pained her, repressed the desire to turn around and offer one final goodbye.   
  
She was done looking back.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
Cordelia had settled onto one of the posh leather couches lining either side of the aircraft, her legs tucked primly beneath her, and frowned, still debating the sagacity of acquiescing to Angel’s request that they use one of the firm’s jets to travel to Rome.   
  
It was convenient, yes, and traveling by private plane was a luxury to which she could not only become accustomed, but infinitely deserved.   
  
Still, there might be repercussions, and she was positive that Wolfram and Hart were most likely tracking her movements, none too pleased that she had blown several of their lame-ass schemes out of the water. She had all but guaranteed that when she had confirmed Connor’s imminent return.   
  
That had been a risk, but a calculated one. If her proclamations and admonitions hadn’t been enough to penetrate Angel’s ridiculously thick skull – though she couldn’t imagine how that could be possible, and she would be mortified if he had the audacity to ignore her warnings - the realization that the Senior Partners were still a looming threat to his son was sure to shock the stupid out of him.  
  
Whatever; she wasn’t too worried. It was doubtful the firm would turn their attention from Angel to focus on her other friends, and any notice she might draw to the Scoobies was insignificant; they had never before been targeted by the Senior Partners and it was unlikely they would be now.  
  
She only vaguely listened to Fred’s excited squawks about the Eternal City, Gunn’s fretting over not being able to bring his weapons cache, Lorne’s rendition of _Three Coins in the Fountain_ , and Wesley’s droning lecture on the current state of the European nation.   
  
She had missed them, their quirks and foibles, and they were safe for the moment, now that they were free of Angel’s idiocy and the firm’s machinations. She had no intention of abandoning them, but she couldn’t afford to make them her first priority. She still had to deal with Buffy and Willow.

Oh, but that was going to be a pleasure. Her lips curved into a feline smile as she savored the possibilities.  
  
In truth, she held no ill will toward Buffy, who had lost more than any one person should ever be made to endure. Cordelia not only understood that but respected it. Once free of Sunnydale, she had been able to view Buffy’s triumphs and failures with more objectivity, and a grudging admiration for the Slayer had surprisingly emerged. No, she didn’t like the way Buffy had behaved toward Xander, Angel, Giles, or Joyce; for that matter, the girl’s treatment of Willow and Faith was also obnoxious. She found herself resentful of the pity for them inspired within her by an unwitting Buffy.  
  
Buffy’s primary problem, as Cordelia saw it, was that she acted not out of malice, but thoughtlessness. Losing her mother and then her own life, however, as well as being brought back from the dead, had cured Buffy of most of that, but she still jumped on the dictator bandwagon a little too often. Cordelia well understood the need to have a clearly designated leader who could get things done, but she was also intimately familiar with the consequences that resulted when said leader believed themselves omniscient and infallible.   
  
She narrowed her eyes, still pissed off that Angel once had the audacity to fire her. _Her!_  
  
She shook her head to clear it.   
  
She was untroubled by Buffy because she knew the girl’s worry for Xander would override the instinctive desire to challenge her for control. If anything, she was betting Buffy would be grateful to her for coming in and relieving her of having to make decisions where he was concerned. Besides, she well know that any opposition offered by Buffy would be met and dealt with by Dawn. Willow, however, was an altogether different case.  
  
Willow was a basket case.  
  
She closed her eyes and behind them unfolded the events of Kingman’s Bluff.   
  
It would be so much simpler if she could still resent Willow, but she couldn’t, nor had she ever blamed her exclusively for what had happened that night in the factory.   
  
God, had it really been almost seven years ago?   
  
Whatever. Willow had made her choices, but so had Xander, and she herself had then been forced to make her own. Of course, neither did she forgive Willow for chasing a boy she knew to be happy with someone else – which had truly been just pathetic, anyhow. The only thing more pathetic was two women fighting over the same man, which was the singular reason she hadn’t beaten Willow into the ground.   
  
Well, that and the rebar through her stomach.   
  
Cordelia Chase had no need to compete with any woman, and certainly not for the love of a fickle doofus. What was most galling, however, was that she had honestly expected better of Willow, which, to her, suggested that she herself was truly the superlative woman, not that she had ever questioned it.  
  
Of course it all would have played out very differently had Xander been the innocent victim of Creepy Redheaded Stalker Person, but that wasn’t the case. Had it been, she would have drop-kicked Willow’s ass into orbit and happily skipped off with Xander to the mall.   
  
Alas.   
  
He _had_ been attracted to Willow, and rather than admitting it, he had gone behind her back and lied to her face, which was what she had been unable to forgive. It still grated, which was surprising given all that had happened to her in the years since, but she supposed the first cut of betrayal never completely healed. She had forgiven him, but she would never forget, and she would never again underestimate Willow’s capacity for treachery – a competency which was later and more ferociously illustrated by the girl's rape of Tara’s mind.  
  
Cordelia knew Willow was the only valid threat standing between she and Xander, but she had a plan for the witch as well.   
  
The others were too in awe of Willow’s abilities to realize she in fact knew very little about the forces of the universe, and while Willow might now be, as Spike had said, All Powerful Whatsit, she was in for a rude awakening if she thought Cordelia would roll over and bare her belly in submission just because her eyes bled that gross black ichor.  
  
She swallowed heavily and forced herself to breathe, to remember what Willow had endured these past years.   
  
Nothing the girl had done – had ever even _thought_ of doing – was cause for her to be punished in the way she had been. She recalled Willow’s face, fixed in horror, when Tara was shot before her.   
  
What a waste. What a tragic waste of a life which had all but shone with goodness. It was no surprise Willow had gone batshit, just as there was no mystery about Xander cresting the bluff to confront her. He had known she could and would easily have killed him, but he hadn’t cared, for he had understood her rage.   
  
Buffy hadn’t, too entrenched in a renewed sense of mortality which had resulted from her resurrection, one which whispered to her that Willow was being held accountable for violating the laws of nature and man, though she of course never would have imagined or wished for that justice to be delivered in the form of Tara’s assassination. Ever since her return, Buffy had been preoccupied with keeping a firm grasp on her tenuous control of her own life, only to realize in the end that control was merely an illusion thrown over the eyes of mortals by the Powers to keep them docile.   
  
Willow had at last torn that veil away; Xander had done so years before. He understood all too well personal rage, but had accepted the worthlessness of allowing it to best you, so when he walked towards Willow on that cliff, he had been fully prepared to die. In fact, Cordelia was sure that a part of him had even welcomed it. That appeal had never released its hold upon him. That’s why she needed to get him away from the others while she still could, before he scampered back to Africa and got his goofy ass killed because of a careless mistake or a general disinterest in life.  
  
Well, fuck that. If she could come back from two comas, being transformed into a half-demon, an Ascension, a Descension, some vague incest, and giving birth to an Antichrist wannabe, Alexander Harris could just suck up his drama and get on with life.  
  
She kept her eyes closed and dozed lightly as Wesley regaled an enthusiastic Fred with tales of the Coliseum, mad Emperors, and Christian martyrs, with Lorne chiming in on occasion about Roman nighttime hotspots they simply had to explore. A bored Gunn had slipped on a pair of earphones a while ago and was watching the latest Steven Seagal.   
  
Cordelia resolved to discuss with him later his atrocious viewing habits.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
As the limo sped past the Pantheon, Cordelia was still lost in thought, aware the others were now more carefully observing her, unused to her silence for any significant length of time. She couldn’t be bothered with offering half-hearted reassurances, however.   
  
She loved them as one could only love their family, but she honestly hadn’t given them much consideration beyond getting them out of Wolfram and Hart. She knew the boys would protect Fred at all costs, but she was also aware there was a rancor now blossoming between Wes and Gunn from seeds of distrust sown long ago. Both of them were in love with Fred, who wasn’t interested in either of them. If she had been in love with anyone, it had been Angel, even if only on an subconscious level, and Cordelia knew the woman was still reeling from the realization that he had manipulated and betrayed them all, despite his best intentions.   
  
It would be a long time before Fred recovered from the knowledge that the one person in whom she had invested the totality of her trust had thrown it away in favor of protecting his son, although she was sure that Fred understood Angel’s need to shield Connor.   
  
Cordelia doubted it would take a year before Gunn and Wesley started fucking each other. Perhaps that would be best, although it was a little too reminiscent of Spike and Buffy for her tastes. Rage therapy via violent sex was all kinds of yuckness.  
  
She was unsure what to do about Lorne. He had never fully embraced his position at Wolfram and Hart, and had no desire to return to Pylea. He was at loose ends and still mourning Caritas.   
  
Cordelia frowned. Now that she thought about it, Lorne’s former nightclub had served a very real purpose, and as its proprietor, Lorne had been completely fulfilled, ensured that he had a place in this world, one in which he would always belong and where he had no one for whom to answer save himself.  
  
“Caritas is Latin."  
  
Fred, Lorne, and Gunn looked askance at her.  
  
“It is,” Wesley agreed, his brow raised.  
  
She turned to look out the window and nodded. “Latin was the language of ancient Rome.”  
  
For a moment, all were silent.  
  
“Duh?” Gunn finally said.  
  
She drummed her fingers on the armrest. “Seems like Rome would be a good place for a club called Caritas.”   
  
She smirked and ignored Lorne’s excited squeak, returning to worrying over how Xander would react to her arrival.  
  
It was that confrontation which slid a sliver of fear into her thoughts and plans. She had been all but dragged out of the Higher Realms – though she was so not complaining about that – and had a new mission of her own choosing, but she was banking on his _wanting_ to see her, on his willingness to accept help.   
  
Well, okay, she was going to help him whether he liked it or not – his permission wasn’t required and never had been – but it would be nice. She didn’t want to have to fight him, too. But she would.   
  
She wasn’t even sure whence this renewed sense of love for him had come, but she welcomed it. Perhaps it had always been there, waiting to be rediscovered, but she had pushed it aside in favor of Angel. Not that she regretted her love for Angel in any way; she would always love him. But now she realized that she had never _stopped_ loving Xander, and that put into clearer focus Buffy’s own Angel troubles with Riley and then Spike, as well as Willow’s with Kennedy.   
  
It was possible, though untenable, to be in love with two people simultaneously.  
  
Still, after almost five years of absolute silence, of no communication, of other loves and significant deaths, could she really expect to waltz back into Xander’s life and be welcomed with open arms?  
  
Of course she could!  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Willow was patently ignoring yet another squabble that had erupted between Buffy and Faith, once again over Xander.  
  
“He don’t need you telling him what do to!”  
  
“Faith, he has to do _something_! He just sits in that room and stares at the wall for days on end!”  
  
The other girl sniffed. “Well, he’s going back to Africa in two days and always gets his shit done. What the fuck do you care how he spends his time till then? Stay out of it.”  
  
“Aren’t you worried?” demanded an exasperated Buffy.  
  
“Not my business,” Faith curtly replied, “and it ain’t yours, either. When X wants help, he’ll ask. Until then, I’m making sure no one’s bent nose gets in his way.”  
  
They continued going back and forth as Willow shared an eyeroll with Kennedy.   
  
She had come around – reluctantly – to Faith’s way of thinking a few days prior. Despite her best efforts, including an incredibly tasty batch of cookies, Xander was uninterested in discussing the state of his life or lack thereof, and any mention of Anya turned him cold so quickly, it was like trying to figure skate down Mount Everest.   
  
She couldn’t blame him. She had never connected with Anya the way Xander had with Tara, and that he was unwilling to share his pain with her was no surprise, though it hurt. In the end, Anya had died for them and deserved to be recognized and remembered for it. The marker in the courtyard of the New Council was thoughtful but insufficient. The people who would view it would never understand who Anya had been in all of her absurd, tactless, wonderful glory.   
  
She blinked away the tears which threatened to emerge.  
  
She glanced over at Dawn, who was curled up in a chair in the corner, chewing on a tendril of hair in lieu of stomping over to her sister and beating Buffy to within an inch of her life, content to let Faith take the reins for a while. Willow knew that Kennedy shared Buffy’s opinion – in itself a supremely rare occurrence – but she loved and respected Xander too much to interfere in his grieving process, remembering with vivid clarity that he had lost an eye so that she would not lose her life; wisely, she kept her mouth shut and stayed out of it.  
  
Still, it was curious how listless Dawn had been all day, all but sitting on her hands so that she didn’t throttle everyone so that Xander might be left alone, as if she possessed some secret knowledge that it would all work itself out. At once, Dawn caught her eye and abruptly looked away, which set off warning bells in Willow’s head. She narrowed her eyes before closing them and concentrating. Two seconds later, she rose to her feet, and when her eyes opened, they were black.  
  
Immediately, Buffy and Faith stopped squabbling and Dawn sat upright in her chair.  
  
“Will?” Buffy prompted.  
  
“Something’s coming.”  
  
Faith looked around the room in anticipation as Buffy withdrew Mister Pointy from her waistband.   
  
Kennedy stood and crossed the room, taking the hand of her girlfriend. “What is it?”  
  
“Demon.”  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
As the limousine lurched to a stop in front of a nondescript apartment building, Cordelia once again all but threw herself from its confines and began charging up the walk as the others scrambled to follow her.  
  
“What do we know?” Gunn panted.  
  
“Three Slayers, a witch, and a Key,” Cordelia snapped.  
  
“Er, Buffy and Faith, Willow, and Buffy’s sister, Dawn,” Wesley translated. “But the third Slayer?”  
  
“Kennedy, Willow’s partner in bedroom gymnastics.”  
  
He blinked. “Ah.”  
  
“And Xander?” Fred asked.  
  
“In another room. That’s later. I have to deal with these people first.”  
  
“Biggest threat?” Gunn asked.  
  
“Willow. At least she thinks she is.”  
  
“You’ve got something up your sleeve,” Lorne observed.  
  
“Sleeveless,” she and Wesley reminded him.  
  
They packed themselves into the joke of an elevator and Cordelia restlessly tapped her foot as the lift began its agonizingly slow climb.  
  
“There’s much more going on here than what you’ve told us,” Wesley quietly said.  
  
“Of course there is, but don’t worry, you’ll find out soon enough. And it’s nothing bad!” She grinned. “I just want it to be a … surprise.”  
  
“This is going to be good,” squealed an excited Fred.  
  
The door opened, and Cordelia careened out into the hall, and began storming toward its end.  
  
“Are you gonna knock, Princess?” Lorne asked, already knowing the answer.  
  
She smirked. “That’s no fun.”  
  
“Another grand entrance?” Gunn snickered.  
  
“They’re the only kind I do."  
  
She halted before a nondescript door, sizing it up. Two seconds later, it was kicked open and hanging from a hinge. The more doors she kicked in, the fonder she grew of the activity. She strolled in and gave a royal wave, her eyes landing first on a stunned Buffy and Willow, and graced them with her best toothpaste smile.   
  
“Guess who!”


	4. It's What She Does: Choices

Cordelia was very much enjoying Buffy’s incredulity and Willow's Guppy Face with bonus nostril flaring.  
  
Faith was the first to recover. She arched a brow and plopped down on the settee, beaming widely.  
  
“What up, Queen? How they hanging?”

“Pretty good for a girl who’s been flat on her back for a year," Cordelia said blithely, groping her own chest. “Comas. Who knew?”  
  
Faith smirked in reply as her eyes darted toward Buffy and Willow, who were still motionless. Kennedy stood just behind them, eyes narrowed as she assessed the potential threat. Cordelia immediately dismissed her.  
  
Dawn took the opportunity of her sister’s befuddlement and bounced into her hero’s arms.  
  
“You’re here!” she shrieked.  
  
“Hey, Peanut,” Cordelia murmured, allowing the girl to cling for a moment. “Sorry it took so long.”  
  
“That’s okay,” Dawn said earnestly, nodding. “I’m just glad you’re here.” She abruptly pulled back and stared hard into the woman’s eyes. “You’re here to help him, right? Because if you’re not, you can just get the hell out now!”  
  
“Dawn!” Buffy exclaimed.  
  
The girl rolled her eyes before again snaring Cordelia’s gaze.  
  
“Right?” she pressed, her clipped tone an unveiled threat.  
  
Cordelia nodded. “Right.”  
  
Dawn released a sigh of relief and returned to her chair.  
  
“Coma?” Buffy asked.  
  
Willow glared at Cordelia, an impressive feat considering her eyes were nothing but swirls of ebony. “You’re a demon.”  
  
“Old news, Softer Side,” Cordelia snapped, pleased when the witch flinched.  
  
“Demon?” Buffy repeated.  
  
Cordelia looked first at Faith, who appeared confused, then to Willow, who now looked nervous, before finally turning to Buffy.

“I guess you’re out of the loop, but that’s nothing new.”

Buffy was helpless but to offer a wry grin. The more things changed, she supposed. This slice of forgotten normalcy was very welcome.  
  
“Why are you here?” Willow demanded.  
  
Cordelia withdrew her compact from her purse and quickly checked her makeup. She pursed her lips and cocked her head, deciding she didn’t really care for her shade of lipstick after all, though it was serviceable for the moment.  
  
“I’m here for Xander, of course,” she said before smacking her lips, snapping shut the compact, and dropping it back into her bag.  
  
“Coma?” Buffy asked again, this time with more urgency.  
  
Cordelia signaled for the others to enter.  
  
Gunn took point and stalked to her side, glaring menacingly at the others. If he was impressed by Willow’s small display of power, he didn’t show it. He nodded to Faith, glanced surreptitiously at Buffy and Dawn, and then stared at Kennedy, instantly disliking her.  
  
Fred bounded into the room, completely oblivious to or uncaring of the level of discomfort their arrival had caused. She skipped over and gave a quick hug to Faith, who was at first discombobulated but quickly returned the embrace, and then raced toward Willow, engulfing her in a similar gesture.  
  
The witch was so surprised, her normal eye color reasserted itself but, before she could say anything, Fred had released her and crossed to Buffy, taking the Slayer’s hand in her own and pumping it vigorously.  
  
“Hi, Buffy! It’s great to finally meet you! I never got the chance before you died. Of course, I’d just returned myself. You know, to Earth.”  
  
Buffy cocked her head and stared, but managed to refrain from asking if the woman was, in fact, an alien, as it would explain so much.  
  
“And then you came back, but you never came to L.A. But we’re all here now! Gosh, there’s so much I want to ask you, but I’m sure there’s a lot Cordy wants to say too. Oh! I’m Fred, by the way.”  
  
Buffy opened her mouth, but no sound emerged. Fred had already moved on to introducing herself to Kennedy and Dawn. Faith was rolling across the couch with unfettered glee.  
  
“Hello, Faith.”  
  
She raised her head and swallowed heavily. “Hey, Wes,” she said lamely, her voice cracking on her name. She winced and briefly shut her eyes. It was never going to get easier, and it shouldn’t, she reminded herself. “What’s the word?”  
  
“Word is, you saved the world.”  
  
She flushed and looked down at her fidgety hands. “It wasn’t nothin’.”  
  
“It was everything,” he insisted. “I’m very proud of you.”  
  
“Thanks,” she mumbled, still unable to raise her gaze.  
  
Buffy, Kennedy, and Dawn were now staring wide-eyed at Lorne, whose red eyes sparkled happily as he made his way over to the wet bar and began mixing drinks, figuring they all would need one sooner rather than later, and leaving Wesley to make the introductions. Once Kennedy ascertained most of her friends knew these people and Lorne posed no threat, she calmed down.  
  
Buffy stared at everyone before whistling sharply through her fingers and waving her arms.  
  
“What the hell is going on here?” She then noticed that Wesley, Fred, Lorne, and Gunn, as well as Dawn and Faith, were looking at Cordelia. She sighed. “Cordy, what’s going on? Are you okay? Is Angel okay? Is there impending doom?”  
  
“Long story, sort of, sort of, and not at the moment.”  
  
Buffy exhaled loudly and nodded. “Okay. I’m dealing.”  
  
Cordelia grinned. “Let’s sit down. There’s a lot to tell."  
  
“Start with why you’re a demon,” Willow said.  
  
She curled a lip and rolled her eyes, but figured that was as good a place to begin as any other, so she laid it out for them, piecemeal at first yet with brutal honesty: the toll the visions had taken on her, her first coma, Skip, and her Ascension. Buffy was visibly shaken by the news of any Ascension, but Cordelia barreled forward and then explained her Descension, her possession, the return of Angelus, the Beast, Connor, and Jasmine.  
  
Her monologue was toneless and devoid of emotion, and she experienced neither relief nor closure from telling her story. She outlined the many mistakes Angel and she herself had both made, and spared no detail save for Connor's fathering Jasmine and her time spent in the Higher Realms.  
  
Fred had begun sobbing almost as soon as Cordelia opened her mouth, and by the time the tale was finished, Dawn and Buffy were both openly weeping as fat, silent tears slid down Faith’s cheeks.  
  
“Fang never told me all this,” she whispered, the sting of betrayal in her voice.  
  
Cordelia shrugged helplessly. “He couldn’t have, even if he wanted to. There was a spell in effect.”  
  
“Spell?” Willow repeated.  
  
“In a minute,” Buffy seethed, angrily swiping away her tears and glaring at Willow and Faith. “You both were in Los Angeles last year. Why didn’t you tell me what was going on? You at least knew Cordy was in a coma. Didn’t you think that was information that should’ve been shared?”

Cordelia was taken aback by just how angry Buffy was, especially as it was on her behalf. It was rather nice, she decided, that Buffy would have been there for her had she known. She really hadn't expected less, but the confirmation was gratifying.  
  
Dawn loudly supported her sister's interrogation.  
  
Faith flushed. “I didn’t say nothin’ because you were still pissed they broke me out of jail to help Fang." She glared. "Besides, why’s it my job to fill you in? Red was there. She knew about the Queen. How was I supposed to know she didn’t tell you?”  
  
Buffy blinked. “You’re right.” She turned to Willow. “Well?”  
  
“Because if she had, Xander would have left Sunnydale to come help me,” Cordelia interjected.  
  
Buffy’s respiration quickened as her eyes turned flat. “Please tell me she’s wrong.”  
  
Willow said nothing and averted her gaze.  
  
“Oh, my god.” Disgusted, Buffy stood and made her way to the bar. She looked up at Lorne with pleading eyes. “I’ll take that drink now, please.”  
  
“You got it, toots.”  
  
She threw it back, uncaring of what it was, and savored the delicious burn of the amber liquid racing down her throat. She swayed but swiftly steadied herself.  
  
“I can’t believe this,” she remarked to no one in particular. “I can’t believe Angel kept this from me. A son? With _Darla_?” She shook her head. “I don’t even want to know. I guess it’s not important anyway. But the rest of it?”  
  
She again turned to face Willow, whose eyes were downcast. “Angel or not, spell or not, you should have told us. Cordy is one of us. And so _what_ if Xander had left? Good! I _wanted_ him out of there! Out of that house, out of that _town_! Maybe if he had…”  
  
“Don’t you dare,” Willow snarled. “Don’t you _dare_ blame me for what Caleb did to him.”  
  
“That’s a fair call,” Cordelia interjected. “You and Spike were the ones who stood by and watched,” she said to Buffy.  
  
“I couldn’t have stopped it,” Buffy tightly replied. “I was too far away.”  
  
“It should have been stopped before it ever began,” Kennedy said. “We never should have been there.”  
  
Buffy set her jaw and looked away. She couldn’t argue that very real truth.  
  
“I don’t blame you, Buffy,” Cordelia continued, “and neither does Xander. What I blame you for is the way you treated him after it happened. You left him sitting in the hospital like a can of trash.”  
  
Buffy bit her lip, but the choked sob broke through anyway and a fresh onslaught of tears poured from her eyes.  
  
“I blame you, but I understand.”  
  
Buffy sharply looked up.  
  
Cordelia nodded, her eyes locking with those of the other girl. “I understand,” she repeated. “After almost seven years, you thought he’d be the one to escape unscathed, to be rewarded for the indentured servitude to which he had committed himself. You believed that if Xander was somehow able to make it through, then everything would be okay.”  
  
She sighed. “But then Caleb blinded him and that’s when you saw the truth. Xander had never been okay, not since the night Darla took Jesse. It’s just that all his scars were on the inside. And now, every time you look at the patch, you remember every time he’s been hurt, all of the times you hurt him and he forgave you, all of the times he hurt you and you forgave him, and you blame yourself."

Buffy shut her lips tightly before the whimper could escape.

"But he doesn’t," Cordelia continued. "He loves you and always will, but he deserves better than how you treat him.”  
  
She cocked her head. “And I think you know that, and so does he, which is why he doesn’t press you.” She squared her shoulders. “So I will. I know how much you love him. I know you never wanted to see him hurt. I know you blame yourself." She paused. "But I also know that there’s some small part of you that felt he might have deserved it, for lying to you and forcing you to kill Angel.”  
  
Buffy drew in a shuddering gasp and flushed with shame.  
  
“Huh?” Faith asked.  
  
Cordelia quickly explained the meeting between Buffy and Xander on the way to Angel’s mansion in sophomore year.  
  
Faith blinked. “What the fuck? So he made up some lie about what Red said.” She shook her head. “See, what I want to know is why you believed him, because Red likes Fang – always has – and that doesn’t sound like something she’d say. And if _I_ know that, why didn’t you? Maybe because you _wanted_ to believe him?" She raised a brow. "Maybe you were just looking for an excuse?”  
  
She didn’t give Buffy a chance to respond. “Who gives a shit, anyway? Angelus was running around killing Slayers and torturing Watchers. Not to mention all the kids he ate. You should have put him down way before.”  
  
“And she knows that,” Cordelia said, “but she didn’t, and she resents Xander for compelling her to take action when she couldn’t make the decision herself.”  
  
“Well, that’s fucking lame.”  
  
“Yeah, it is, but it’s life and it happened.”  
  
“How long have you known?” Buffy quietly asked.  
  
“That he lied? He told me that day.”  
  
Buffy laughed mirthlessly and shook her head. “I don’t blame him, not anymore, and I’m not sure I ever really did. Even I’m not that much of a hypocrite. We’ve all kept secrets from each other, and if he hadn’t lied, we’d all be dead.”  
  
Cordelia offered a wan smile. “You should tell him that. He needs your forgiveness as much as you need his.” She sighed. “I’ve never understood your relationship with him but it's also not my business. In the end, it doesn’t matter what I think, or what Faith or Willow thinks. Xander’s the only man you’ve ever trusted and he’s the only one who never abandoned you.

"Tell him you love him, Buffy," she pleaded. "He needs to hear it.”  
  
Buffy nodded but said nothing. She knew Cordelia was right but she was also terrified. She loved Xander more than anyone, even Dawn. The problem was that her love for him, always so poorly defined, wasn't any clearer to her now than it was then. He didn't fit into a category next to which she could place a checkmark. Xander was everything. He was oxygen.  
  
“It really doesn’t matter that Willow or Faith never told you about me,” Cordelia added.  
  
She paused briefly, quickly debating the best way to phrase her next words so that they would have maximum impact.  
  
“Or that Giles never did.”  
  
“What.”  
  
Mission accomplished.  
  
Pleased, Cordelia sat back and crossed her legs.  
  
“After Angel took over Wolfram and Hart, he quickly realized – and you know how hard that is for him –  there was little they could do to help me, so he called Giles.” One corner of her mouth turned upward in resigned acceptance. “But Giles believed Angel had only assumed control of the firm because he was actually Angelus, so he refused. Well, actually Angel had called for Willow but got Giles instead, who refused on her behalf.”  
  
Her eyes narrowed fractionally as she awaited the response. She wasn’t disappointed.

Willow curled a lip in fury and everyone could feel the ambient magic racing into her veins.  
  
Buffy's eyes widened and then narrowed as she reached into her pocket and withdrew her cell phone, dialing the number without looking at the keys. Her eyes never left Cordelia as she waited for the connection to be established.  
  
“Hi, Giles!” she squealed. “How are you?”

Willow smirked and crossed her arms over her chest, waiting with smug satisfaction.

Buffy began nodding. “Oh, I’m fine. Everything’s good here. Dawn’s doing great in school, and Will and Ken are visiting from Rio. Faith and I are getting along. Well, for us, we are.”  
  
Her laughter was brittle and forced. She then brightened. “Oh, hey! I’ve got someone here who wants to say hi, okay?”  
  
Her lips pursed. “Uh huh. Sure! Love you, too,” she sang. “We'll talk soon. Count on it.”  
  
She offered a wide grin that bared all her teeth as she leaned over and handed the phone to Cordelia, who took it with a gleam of appreciation.  
  
“Hello Giles.”  
  


* * *

  
  
Cordelia allowed herself a moment to revel in her ability to render people speechless.  
  
She had missed this, this power which had always been hers but which hadn’t been exercised in so long. Thankfully, it hadn’t atrophied. She had gob-smacked people before with two words, but never so easily and with such banal vocabulary.  
  
She was back and better than ever. If she could even _be_ better than she had been previously. Which she wasn’t sure was possible.  
  
She listened as his stunned silence gave way to incessant prattle, amused by his backpedaling and excuses. The moment he paused to take a breath, she pounced.  
  
“Actually, you’re wrong,” she smiled. “I was in a coma, for about a year. I woke up today.” She glanced down at her nails. “Hm? No, it was Angel who called you, not Angelus.”  
  
He droned on some more.  
  
“Oh, sure. I mean, I _guess_ I understand.”  
  
Time to twist the knife.  
  
“After all, we hadn’t seen or spoken to each other in almost five years, and I know you’ve had a lot to deal with. Angel shouldn’t have expected you just to drop everything to come help me.”  
  
Faith bit her lip to keep from laughing while Buffy made dolphin noises and clapped with excitement. She pitied Giles, but only just, and it was so rare to see him taken to task. That it was being accomplished – and so easily – by Cordelia Chase was orgasmic. In almost a decade, he was the only one who had ever escaped her wrath and she was about to punch his ticket in.  
  
Cordelia rolled her eyes at his stuttering and placed her hand over the receiver. “He’s doing the British thing.”  
  
Wesley frowned.  
  
“Uh huh,” she continued. “Right. No, they’re all here with me. Here in Rome, duh. Did you forget it was Buffy who called you? Angel has some things he needs to think about and it’s better he does that alone. Huh? Yeah, sure.”  
  
Her eyes then shone with predatory glee.  
  
“Thanks, Giles,” she said softly, before baring her teeth, “and, yeah, there’s several things you can do for me.”  
  
Dawn covered her mouth to hide her laughter, but instead ended up loudly snorting.  
  
“First, Wesley is to be reinstated as a Watcher with the New Council.”  
  
She barreled on even as she sensed both Giles and Wesley about to protest.  
  
“There are so many Slayers now and a real shortage of Watchers since the First blew you up, and absolutely none who are more qualified than Wesley. The time he’s spent with Angel and me have shown and taught him things about which you have no idea, let alone books to explain them or avenues to combat them. I know you all have saved the world every day for the past five years, but guess what? So have we. And a large part of that is due to Wesley.”  
  
She paused. “We’ve all changed, haven’t we, Giles? For the better?”  
  
Taking his sigh as compliance, she continued. “We'll discuss later the particulars, including the area to which he’ll be assigned, as well as his salary …”  
  
Buffy perked up. “Retroactive,” she coughed into her hand.

Irony! She loved it.  
  
Cordelia beamed with delight. “To be paid retroactively from the moment he _quit_ ,” she emphasized, “the Council.” She shrugged. “Besides, you’re the Head now, and all that money survived the First’s – and please come up with a better name for that thing, by the way – little coup. Put it to good use.”  
  
Wesley stared at her, stupefied.  
  
“I don’t know about that,” she murmured. “That’s up to them.” Her eyes slid toward Faith, who blanched. “I’m sure one of them will let you know.” She flexed her toes and smiled. “Thanks. Hm? Oh, you better believe there’s more!  
  
Buffy doubled over and beat her thigh with her fist.  
  
“I’m sure with all the recent upheaval, the Council is in need of ancillary support,” she tinkled, “and luckily for you, I happen to be best friends with the smartest woman in the world.”  
  
She listened and then wrinkled her nose. “Uh, _no_. Her name is Winifred Burkle, but she goes by Fred.”  
  
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, I don’t know, the fact that she knows so much about computers that the intranet she constructed for the firm outclasses the web to the point where any comparison is ridiculous? That theoretical physics is so beneath that she prefers instead to construct theories about theoretical physics? That she’s developed sera for diseases which have only just been discovered by supposed modern medicine? That the Department of Defense tapped her to develop a new system of EM weapons, but she declined because their unlimited budget was too restrictive? That she's not only fluent in more demonic languages than anyone but Anya could name, but has compiled dictionaries for them?  
  
"And that’s just the beginning. I could go on for several hours, and we both know that I would, because as much as you love the sound of my voice, Giles, I love it even more.”  
  
Fred had reddened with each listing of her attributes to the point where, once Cordelia had finished, she was all but purple. Gunn threw an arm around her shoulders and nodded proudly while Wesley gazed adoringly at her.  
  
“Or maybe you’d prefer to keep the vampire fanboy as your senior staff,” Cordelia grinned. “I hear he’s an excellent cook. Tell me, does he still refer to you as Obi Wan?”  
  
At this, Dawn and Faith hooted while Kennedy cackled, as Buffy crawled over to Cordelia, held up the Seer’s free arm, and pumped it in victory.  
  
Cordelia listened to Giles for several moments. Suddenly, her entire face lit up.  
  
“I think that’s a great idea, Giles!” she cooed. “It’s so nice of you to consider a reconciliation with Angel, and I must agree it only makes sense for everyone to be in the same loop.” She nodded. “Hm? Oh. Well, I think Andrew is the perfect emissary to initiate negotiations. Angel will be so excited.”  
  
“Holy shit,” whispered an awed Faith.  
  
“She wins at life,” Dawn declared.  
  
“She wins everything,” Kennedy praised.  
  
Gunn, Fred, and Wesley looked at each other and finally shrugged. They had no idea who Andrew was, but sensed that Angel was about to become woefully familiar with him.  
  
“Next is my friend, Lorne. He’s an empathic demon from the planet Pylea.” She grinned. “Oh, you’ve heard of it? Yes,” she rolled her eyes, “it’s wonderful. We’ve been there. Fred had disappeared into a portal and lived on Pylea for five years as a slave.” She paused. “Oh, yes. See, humans are treated as chattel there; we’re even called _cows_. Isn’t that lovely?"

She flicked a wrist. "Well, except for me. They made me their princess.”  
  
Buffy started to laugh, but it died in her throat when she saw Dawn and Faith train inquisitive glances upon Lorne, who nodded gravely.  
  
“It’s true,” Willow whispered. “They had just gotten back when I arrived to tell Angel about … you know. She really is a princess.”  
  
Buffy stared, first at Willow and then at Cordelia, who, if possible, looked even more bored than usual.  
  
“Whatever, did you ever know of a club in Los Angeles called Caritas?”  
  
She listened and then gave Lorne a thumbs-up. “Yep, that’s the one. Lorne owned and managed it.” She nodded. “As I’m sure you’re aware, there’s a pressing need for such a sanctuary, especially at this time in the world where there are more Slayers and demons than ever.”  
  
She tilted her head and gazed at the ceiling. “Can you imagine how helpful it would be to have a club like that, operated by someone who has my complete confidence and trust? Someone who can facilitate and arbitrate peace between two endlessly opposed factions?”  
  
Inordinately pleased with her flawless logic, she made her demand. “All he needs to get started is some capital and I can’t think of a better investment for the Council to have in their portfolio, can you? Of course not. So how soon can you cut the check?”  
  
She nodded happily at whatever Giles was saying as Lorne let loose a celebratory whoop, dancing a small jig of glee.  
  
“Last but not least,” Cordelia chirped, “Charles Gunn, my other associate. He’s to be made a Watcher.”  
  
She had expected reticence and perhaps even some resistance, but her face darkened horribly with Giles’s every protestation. Buffy dropped her hand and backed away, Faith sat up straight, Dawn renewed the chewing of her hair, and even Willow looked vaguely terrified. Fred and Wesley were utterly placid, while Gunn wasn’t sure what feelings he was experiencing.  
  
“Test?” Cordelia repeated, jumping to her feet. “What _test_ , Giles? You mean where some flunkies of yours kick back and pass judgment on who Gunn is, what he’s about, and what they believe are his merits and liabilities? Who the hell are you, then?” she demanded. “Quentin Travers?”

"Ooh, _burn_ ," Faith whispered.  
  
Cordelia shook her head. “You better be grateful your ass is safe in London, where I'm not – but could appear faster than you can say Mister Belvedere – because then I’d have to cram your favorite vest so far down your throat, you'd be shitting tweed for the next three weeks.”  
  
She resumed her seat and smoldered in silence as he continued to speak in stupidities about his numerous objections, which were, of course, intended for everyone’s safety and well-being.  
  
“Perhaps I was unclear,” she said slowly, her cadence arctic. “I was not making a suggestion, but issuing a proclamation.”  
  
She raised a brow. “Is that right?" she said quietly. "Well, I have some reservations for you.”  
  
“Uh oh,” Dawn sang.  
  
“This can’t be good,” Willow fretted.  
  
“This is gonna be awesome!” Faith cheered.  
  
Cordelia debated momentarily about how best to teach Giles a lesson before deciding everyone could benefit from even _more_ of her wisdom.  
  
“I certainly hope you’re not suggesting that a man who’s been fighting demons since he was a teenager, for no other reason than to keep his family and friends safe, is beneath consideration.”  
  
Her point was not lost on her audience and quiet tendrils of rage slowly unfurled in the hearts of Buffy, Willow, Dawn, and Faith. That was nice to see, Cordelia wasn’t letting Giles off the hook quite so easily.  
  
“Or that his sacrifices should go unrewarded. Sacrifices which include having to stake the vampire who wore the face of the person closest to him.”  
  
Buffy stilled as Willow quietly gasped, her eyes darting to Gunn who, despite the mourning for Alonna which had reasserted itself, regarded her quizzically. He sensed not pity in her gaze, but sympathy. Had she been forced into a similar act?  
  
No, he promptly decided, but she was nonetheless familiar with the maelstrom of emotion that lied behind it. He then realized that Cordelia could not be speaking just of him, but of another, someone who had been compelled into such action. His eyes darted to Faith, who was quiet, and then to Dawn, who appeared sad, and finally to Buffy, who was devastated. He remembered Cordelia's earlier words, that Buffy had once been forced to kill Angel in order to save the world, yet sensed Buffy was thinking not of herself, but another.  
  
It could only have been Xander, and his respect for this unknown man, someone who meant so much to Cordelia that his need for her had returned her to this dimension, swelled.  
  
Cordelia snorted into the phone. “As if being a Watcher is a reward for anything. As if it’s not a sacrifice in and of itself.” She narrowed her eyes. “As if you don’t know this.”  
  
She sighed. “Look, Giles, I just woke up from a year-long coma, and I don’t need to be bored already, so let me save us all some time and bottom line this for you: Gunn’s been doing this since he was the age we were when this all started. He’s seen more in his tenure than some of us put together. He’s had to deal with our in-fighting, our betrayals of one another, and with our allies dying to save the world. No, he’s not the smartest or the strongest, but he is the bravest. He’s never wavered and never will, so one of your oh-so-precious newbie Slayers would be only too lucky to have him for her Watcher!  
  
"So, no, I don’t care what the Board would say, or what you think, or about anything else. Make it happen or you’ll be dealing with me in person, and if you’re stupid enough not to recognize that for the threat – no, the _promise_ – that it is, I suggest you call Angel and ask how he’s feeling after the dressing down I gave him earlier today.”  
  
She exhaled and listened for a moment.  
  
“Good,” she said crisply. “I’ll have Wesley call later to brief you.”  
  
She frowned. “Xander?” she repeated. “Of course he’ll be okay. Why do you think I’m here?” She curled a lip. “What? What can _I_ do for him? Excuse me, have we met? I’m _Cordelia Chase!"_  
  
With that, she pressed End and tossed the phone aside like a discarded newspaper.  
  
The others gaped and said nothing for several seconds.  
  
Willow cocked her head and scrutinized the woman. “You’re different.”  
  
“I’m not, actually. You are.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
Well, she certainly wasn’t going to spell it out for her. She opted instead to answer the question with one of her own.  
  
“Tell me something, Willow. Where do you and Buffy get off treating Faith the way you do?”  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
She smiled. “That’s the point; there is no excuse. Faith killed two people; so did you. She turned herself in and went to jail while you spent a summer in England. Do you see the disparity?”  
  
Willow stiffened. “How dare you.”  
  
“Because it’s what I do and I’m tired of your bullshit. I have been since we were four. Faith killed Alan Finch by mistake, believing he was trying to kill Buffy. She lied to cover it up because she was a scared fifteen-year-old girl who had no family, no true friends, and no real Watcher because Giles and Wesley were too busy pissing on each other to do their job.”  
  
“It’s incredibly pathetic how true that is,” a bitter Wesley whispered.  
  
“Faith did horrible things,” Cordelia continued, “but she eventually took responsibility for them. The only reason she’s out of prison now is because she was broken out to save Angel and the world. Which she did.” She held up a hand to ward off the witch’s protest. “She returned to Sunnydale of her own volition, knowing how she would be received, was treated like crap, was almost killed several times, and stayed because she knew it was the right thing to do. And she saved the world again.”  
  
She crossed her arms. “And then there’s you. You killed two people like Faith did. You tried to kill everyone you knew like Faith did. And then tried to end the world, like Faith tried to help the Mayor do.”  
  
She paused momentarily, her hands spread on her knees. “So please, tell me, Willow, why you’re so deserving of forgiveness and she’s not? There was a time when you actively sought to be punished. Apparently you’re over that now, but refuse to extend that same courtesy to Faith. How much more penance is she required to make? I’m being totally serious here. I really want to know.”  
  
“Damn,” Dawn breathed.

"Whoa," Gunn hissed.  
  
Kennedy desperately wanted to interrupt and defend her girlfriend, but found herself unable. Perhaps, if she were honest, even unwilling.

She hadn’t known Willow prior to the meltdown and never really gleaned its impetuses or the vagueness of the consequences, as none of them, Willow included, were inclined to speak of the circumstances surrounding Tara’s murder. She had instinctively liked and admired Faith from the beginning, however, and had never understood the way the others had sat in judgment of her.

The only one who had refrained was Xander – and from everything she had heard about the two of them, he had more right to judge her than they, save Buffy – but he and Faith had gone out of their way to ensure they never interacted and were never left alone together.  
  
The bottom line was that Cordelia was making a lot of sense and, as much as Kennedy loved Willow, she couldn’t deny the truth of the accusations.  
  
“You don’t need to do this,” Faith whispered to Cordelia. “Not for me.”  
  
“Yes, I do, because someone needs to. Someone should have done it long ago.” She narrowed her eyes. “ _Someone_ tried, but they wouldn’t listen, believing he was obviously stupid and horny where you’re concerned.”  
  
Faith closed her mouth so quickly and forcefully, her teeth clacked; Willow and Buffy shifted their gazes to the floor.  
  
Cordelia shook her head. “I know you think they’re better than you, Faith, but they’re not. None of us is. Except for me.”  
  
“You don’t understand,” Willow barked.  
  
“I don’t understand what? What it’s like to have power you can’t control? They’re called crippling visions. What it’s like to watch someone you love die right in front of you? His name was Doyle. What it’s like to kill someone? Her name was Lilah. I understand better than you think, which is why you’re not getting out of this.”  
  
Willow declined to respond so Cordelia decided to shake things up, just because she could.  
  
“Tara sends her love.”  
  
Willow’s eyes became the size of saucers. “W-What?”  
  
“Tara sends her love.”  
  
“How do you know?” Her voice was tinged with rage, doubt, disbelief, and agony.  
  
“Because I was with her.”  
  
“With you?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Tara?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“I don’t understand.”  
  
Cordelia took a breath and held it, while deciding how best to answer Willow’s declaration, a sadistic part of her wanting to draw out the explanation for as long as possible if only to torment the girl. She had to admit she was somewhat reveling in holding a bit of power over the witch. She then sighed, knowing she was being petty. Besides, the longer she prevaricated, the longer she’d be kept from Xander.  
  
“Ascension works differently for humans,” she said slowly, before pursing her lips. “Or half-demons.” Her gaze bored into Willow’s eyes. “You were right earlier. I am a demon, now. Half of one, at any rate.”  
  
“Holy shit,” Faith breathed.  
  
Buffy’s eyes looked ancient. Willow said nothing.  
  
Cordelia tasted the words on her tongue. She had never admitted it out loud, or even broken her mind’s silence on the subject, as if voicing it would somehow make it more true, make it real in a way that simply holding the knowledge never had. Even after these past three years, she was unsure as to her feelings on the matter, reminded uncomfortably of Doyle, who himself had been half-demon and a Seer.  
  
Well, everyone knew the ending to his story, and if she had been willing before, she would have recognized the similarities, which was perhaps why she had never contemplated further her own nature. She remembered with vivid clarity his death, his sacrifice, and some small part of her – she had learned to ignore so many of them in order to function – knew that, someday, she would be called upon to make her own. And wasn’t that what the Powers or the Senior Partners or whoever had been planning?  
  
But she was still here, perhaps only by of a quirk of fate, but it was enough. She too had made sacrifices – arguably more than her share, in her opinion – and she was unwilling just to fade away.  
  
“I don’t understand,” Dawn whispered, shaking her head. “I thought you were going to say that you became a demon after you Ascended.  
  
“No. I became a half-demon after my first coma.”  
  
“ _First_ coma,” Buffy repeated in a toneless voice.  
  
“So it was comas all around,” Faith darkly quipped.  
  
Cordelia smirked in reply, but quickly sobered. “There were things I left out before because they weren’t relevant at the time,” she prefaced. “When all of this was first happening, I thought Skip was sent by the Powers to guide me, because that’s what he led me to believe.”  
  
“But that wasn’t true,” Dawn guessed.  
  
“He told me the visions would kill me and offered me a choice: surrender them and live a life of wealth and fame, or keep them and become a demon.”

Buffy and Willow stared in horror.

Cordelia laughed. “I’m sure you’re surprised by what I decided, but the Powers underestimated me. Most people do and it’s incredibly useful. When they showed me this supposedly better life, they miscalculated my love for Angel and my willingness to ensure his survival.”  
  
Fred took Wesley and Gunn’s hands in her own.

Buffy felt _something_ ... she wasn't sure what ... seize her heart. It wasn't jealousy or fear, or even resentment.

She blinked.

It was sadness, she realized. A sadness so profound it made her dizzy. She resumed her seat on the sofa next to Willow, who was curiously silent, and didn’t notice the sidelong glance Faith directed at her.  
  
“Skip showed me – well, I forced the issue, surprise – not only what my life could be, but what Angel’s life would have been had I never been part of it.” She paused. “It wasn’t pretty. Doyle would have passed the visions to him, he would have gone insane, and people we saved would have died. I couldn’t let that happen.”  
  
“Of course you couldn’t,” Buffy whispered.  
  
Her last meeting with Angel had been awkward at best, and while she knew – while she had known for a while now – that she would always love Angel, she doubted they could ever be together. They weren’t the same people they had been and too much had happened, not just to them, but to everyone they loved.

She knew she hadn’t lost him to Cordelia and a part of her appreciated, perhaps even enjoyed, that Angel had found happiness – which sadly appeared to be over – with a woman of Cordelia’s caliber. She had never really gotten along with Cordelia and most likely never would, their personalities were too disparate, but she had always respected her.  
  
“No more than you could have stayed in that sanitarium spell thingy, no matter how much you might have wanted,” Cordelia surmised.  
  
Buffy startled but then nodded.  
  
“So my choice, my demand, was that I keep the visions regardless, and if I died, so be it.” She looked down. “I think I always knew it would happen sooner rather than later, but I tried to ignore it.  
  
“The price to keep them was my humanity," Cordelia warbled. "I paid it.”  
  
Willow closed her eyes as Buffy’s spilled over. It was a loss which both felt acutely, all too aware of the terrible price demanded for power.  
  
“ _Fuck_ ,” Faith whispered, running a hand up her face and then through her hair, untangling her waves.  
  
Buffy sighed. “It’s more than anyone should have to bear.”  
  
Cordelia replied with a wan smile. “You would know.” She then ground her teeth. “But _I_ was the one who was stupid, not the Powers. They didn’t send Skip. Jasmine did.”  
  
“No,” gasped a horrified Dawn.  
  
Another sigh, this one accompanied by an eyeroll and a small shake of her head.  
  
“Yeah. I played right into her hands, and while I’m mortified and humiliated I was so easily manipulated, I’d make the same choice again.”  
  
She looked down at her lap. Pride was the one sin to which she had always been prey. She could only hope she had finally learned her lesson.  
  
“No matter the consequences.”

She knew the words were true as soon as she spoke them and then cleared her throat and raised her eyes to meet those of Willow.

“After I woke up from the coma – the first one – and a few months had passed, after Angel and I realized we wanted to be together, that we _could_ be, I was tricked into Ascending, believing that I would be able to help Angel more from my new role as a Higher Being.”  
  
Willow’s eyes snapped wide open as she blanched, her blood rushing from her face and pooling into her feet, now blocks of ice. She was thankful she was already sitting down.

“That’s not possible.”  
  
“I quite assure you that it is,” a steely Wesley interjected.  
  
The Slayers and Dawn were confused.

“What does that mean?” asked a hesitant Kennedy.  
  
Cordelia shrugged. “In the hierarchy of this dimension, I rank just below the Powers.”  
  
She let them absorb that and smelled their instinctive fear. She liked that smell. She didn’t see the point in telling them that her status afforded her very little perks, but she wasn’t going to lie outright either.  
  
“Let me tell you, it’s not as glamorous or as awesome as it sounds. I sat up there, watching everyone and everything, watching people I love make stupid, irrevocable decisions, and was powerless to stop them.” She gave a sardonic grin. “See, that’s not the role of a Higher Being. We’re supposed to kick back, keep an eye on things, and navel gaze. We can’t interfere because we’re too enlightened and removed."

She snorted. “It’s boring and it _sucks_.”  
  
Buffy quickly did the math. “So for almost the past two years, you’ve seen everything? What happened not only with Angel, but us as well?” At the answering nod, she flushed.  
  
“That’s where I met Tara.” Again, she looked to Willow, who was staring back as if Cordelia was some elaborate puzzle to be solved via intense scrutiny. “She watched with me.”  
  
Those words finally elicited a reaction. The witch began hyperventilating as tears leaked from her eyes.

“Oh god," Willow gasped. "Oh god, oh god, oh god.”

Kennedy’s supportive hand on her shoulder did little to quell her self-loathing.  
  
“Look at me, Willow,” Cordelia said in a low voice. “I want you to look at me and listen to what I have to say.”  
  
“I can’t.”  
  
“Don’t make me force you.” She wasn’t sure she could, but she sure as hell liked issuing the threat.  
  
Swallowing heavily, Willow complied.  
  
“I don’t care what Buffy or Xander or Giles said to you,” she continued, “and what I’m about to say is only my opinion, okay? You did the right thing by killing Warren.”  
  
“What!” Buffy and Faith shouted.  
  
Kennedy’s eyes narrowed. Dawn beamed smugly; she had said as much in the immediate aftermath, and Xander had agreed. Cordelia’s validation filled her with absolute joy.  
  
Cordelia kept Willow locked in her gaze. “He was never going to stop, Willow. _Ever_.” She paused. “Let’s count down his greatest hits, shall we? He tried to rape his girlfriend – Katrina, right? – and when she fought him, he killed her.”  
  
Buffy’s eyes widened. _That_ was an uncomfortable almost-parallel.  
  
“He came to Buffy’s house that day to kill her, and for no other reason. If he had shot Xander too - and he would have - he wouldn’t have cared. After he found out he killed Tara, he had no remorse. _None_. He didn’t _care_ , Willow. He was never going to stop until someone stopped him.”  
  
Willow choked on a sob.  
  
“He had power; not a lot, but enough. If you hadn’t ended him when you did, he would have gone off, gathered more strength, maybe more acolytes, and come back to finish you all.”

She fell silent for a moment.  
  
“Do I agree with the way you disposed of him?" She shrugged. “I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter what I think, but I don’t disapprove. He was scum.”  
  
Willow breathed through her nose for several long moments, trying to gather her thoughts into coherent comments and questions.  
  
“I’m … surprised,” Buffy admitted frankly to Cordelia. “Your sense of right and wrong has always been one of the strongest I’ve ever encountered.”  
  
“And it still is. Like I said, I don’t know if I agree or disagree with Willow’s actions, but I understand them and won’t judge her for them. I hope I would have done the same.”  
  
She sighed and allowed her gaze to travel slowly about the room, taking in first the Scoobies and then the Fang Gang, all of whom either wilted under her scrutiny or prepared themselves for her next proclamation.  
  
“When we were young,” she began softly, “we were all so certain in our morality, convinced we knew what was best when the truth was we hadn’t a clue. Each and every one us has said and done things which have made the ones we love most look at us and say _what the fuck?_ , because we don’t know how to judge our own actions.”  
  
“Not even you?” Dawn asked.  
  
“Hell no. Despite all evidence to the contrary, I'm not perfect, Peanut, and I'm certainly no saint. We’ve all made excuses for ourselves, for each other, for circumstances, for _whatever_. But in the end, they were rationalizations and nothing more.”  
  
She pressed the tip of her tongue to the roof of her mouth and held it, shaking her head. “Let me tell you what I’ve learned, what the visions have taught me and what I saw while I was in the Higher Realms: the world _is_ black and white.”  
  
“What do you mean?” Buffy asked, brow furrowed in confusion.  
  
“We spent years scolding and trying to convince Xander otherwise, insisting it was necessary he learn to see the shades of gray.” She set her jaw. “Fuck the shades of gray!” she thundered. “Morality is a human construct, not a universal one. You think vampires give a crap when they’re draining someone dry, even if a baby? No, because we’re food. The end. The Powers don’t care about us, only about balance. If we kill each other off to the very last two people on this earth, they don’t care, as long as one is _Good_ and the other _Evil_.”  
  
She looked straight into Buffy’s eyes.  
  
“You know why he lied to you? Because Xander knew you wouldn’t kill Angel until someone else – someone other than he or Giles, who had been advocating Angel’s death all along – said you should. Willow was perfect because she liked Angel and was rooting for you two as a couple. It didn’t matter that Angelus had killed Jenny and tortured Giles, killed our classmates and our friends, or had stalked Willow and your mother. Until you heard someone who once thought like you also believed he should die, you weren’t ready. But once you had her approval, even by proxy, you were ready.”  
  
She turned to Dawn. “After Tara died and Willow killed Warren, you were glad she had. Buffy told you that you shouldn’t be, that there are limits, and there _are_ , but those limits have nothing to do with your feelings. This _turn the other cheek_ crap is a relatively new invention and _an eye for an eye_ is still practiced throughout much of the world, regardless of how people would like to think otherwise.  
  
“It’s like I said before,” she continued, again facing Willow, “what was the alternative? Warren wasn’t going to stop being an asshole, and how were the police supposed to handle him? Seriously.” She looked to Buffy. “If you hadn’t killed Angel, soul or not, the portal would have opened and, like you said before, we’d all be dead.”  
  
She sighed. “We make choices. I chose to Ascend; Wesley chose to take Connor; Gunn chose to fall in line with Wolfram and Hart; Willow chose to kill Warren; Buffy chose to kill Angel; Faith chose to kill that volcano guy; Angel chose to assume control of the firm and sleep with whores; Doyle chose to die; Buffy chose to die; Xander chose to bring Buffy back – twice; Warren chose to shoot people; you all chose to activate the Potentials.”  
  
“What the fuck is your point?” Faith demanded.  
  
“That we make choices – judgments – based on the information we know at the time. If those judgments are true and truly felt, then they are the right ones. For you. At that time.” She raised a brow. “You killed because you wanted to, Faith, and for no other reason.”  
  
The other woman swallowed heavily and averted her eyes.  
  
“In the Higher Realms, choice is removed. I had nothing to do but watch others and the choices they made. It was quite an education.”  
  
“What does this have to with Xander?” Kennedy asked.  
  
“Because he’s always known this,” Buffy quietly said. “He’s always seen the world in black and white. He understands the choices we make, usually a lot better than we do, and he forgives us when we can’t forgive ourselves.”  
  
“The One Who Sees,” Dawn murmured.  
  
Willow sighed in agreement. “He always has."  
  
“Good and Evil are nothing but synonyms for white and black,” Fred interjected. “The world is black and white. So are we. We’re both, because nature is both. We all have the potential to be good or evil, or both, in varying degrees, depending on our choices. We sometimes try to justify the choices we make as gray, but there is no gray. There is no lesser of two evils. All there is are our choices and their consequences.”  
  
Faith blinked. “Damn.”  
  
Cordelia nodded. “Buffy, up there I saw many possible futures, and one of the few things I can say with certainty is that if Warren hadn’t died when he did, things would’ve gotten much worse.”  
  
“But that wasn’t how it was supposed to happen, was it?” Dawn whispered.  
  
Cordelia turned her head toward the girl and raised an eyebrow. “No.”  
  
“What?” asked a confused Faith.  
  
“Huh? How do _you_ know?” Buffy demanded of her sister.  
  
Dawn kept her focus on Cordelia. “Everything happens for a reason.”  
  
Cordelia nodded.  
  
“Tara died because the First wanted her gone. That was its choice.”  
  
Another nod, more hesitant.  
  
“No!” breathed a horrified Buffy.  
  
Willow gagged as bile splashed the back of her throat.  
  
“And Xander was supposed to die, too, wasn’t he?” Dawn continued. “With Buffy.”  
  
“No!” Willow screamed.  
  
“Yes,” Cordelia whispered, her eyes downcast.  
  
“You stopped it,” Dawn said.  
  
She raised her head, her eyes flashing dangerously. “I did.”  
  
The girl nodded. “Good.”  
  
“He would have stepped in front of me,” Buffy said, her voice a monotone. “He would have sacrificed himself for me.”  
  
“Yes,” Cordelia murmured.  
  
“Like the Powers wanted you to do for Angel.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“You made sure the bullet hit me.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Because you knew that me being a Slayer would keep me alive until Willow got to the hospital.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
“You’re welcome.”  
  
Kennedy and Faith maintained a respectful silence. Gunn, Wesley, and Fred appeared hopelessly confused.  
  
“I’m sorry I couldn’t save her, too,” Cordelia quietly said to Willow, “but there are limits to what I can do, of my influence in this realm. There are forces beyond me, beyond the Powers.”  
  
Willow didn’t care. “You’ve seen her? Talked to her?”  
  
Cordelia drew in another breath. “Yeah, and she’s one hell of a girl,” she grinned. “She’s happy, Willow. She’s at peace and always will be.” Tears pricked her eyes. “Her love for you … it’s _amazing_.” She shook her head in wonder. “It’s so beautiful, so _pure_.”  
  
Willow pulled her knees beneath her chin, laid her head atop them, and sobbed.  
  
“Her love will never leave you. It will _always_ be part of you.” Cordelia felt a wave of peace wash over her, and knew Tara was close. “You need to stop mourning her, Willow. Love her without regret and without restraint, never apologize for that, but you have to release the grief or it will poison you.” She raised her eyes to the Slayer standing behind the witch. “She likes Kennedy, Willow. She sent her to you.”  
  
Tears brimmed in Kennedy’s eyes and spilled over as Willow howled in both anguish and love.  
  
“She forgives you, Willow. She forgives you everything.”  
  
“No,” Willow cried, shaking her head. “She can’t!”  
  
“She can and she has,” Cordelia said sharply. “Stop punishing yourself. Stop punishing her for leaving you.”  
  
“I’m not!”  
  
“You are! You think holding on to the pain means you’re holding on to her, but that’s not true at all! She’ll always be a part of you, one of the best parts.” She sighed. “Tara wasn’t about sorrow or guilt. Don’t let those things become part of your memories of her.”  
  
“I don’t know how,” she sobbed.  
  
“Let your friends help you. Stop shutting them out, believing they’ve stood beside you only out of a sense of obligation. Stop using Faith as a mirror; stop punishing her.”  
  
Faith squeaked.  
  
“Oh god,” Willow whispered. “I’ve been doing that.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
Willow blinked and rubbed her eyes. “Why are you telling me all of this?”  
  
“Good question.” Cordelia sighed. “Because I don’t hate you anymore. Because I never really did. Because you’ve suffered enough and you’re not the same girl you were.”  
  
Willow startled and at last understood Cordelia’s earlier words. It wasn’t Cordelia but she herself who had changed. She was now finally able to see the other woman in the way that Angel did, in the way Xander always had.  
  
“Tara’s really okay?” she warbled, terrified to know but too filled with hope not to ask.  
  
“She really is.”  
  
She moaned low in her throat and nodded, pulling Kennedy’s arms down around her neck. “Thank you.”  
  
“You’re welcome.” She had been saying that a lot today, and she liked saying it, but she liked hearing people thank her a lot more.  
  
“C-Cordy?” Fred whispered. When the other woman turned her head in acknowledgment, she flushed. Her mouth opened, but was unable to give voice to her question.  
  
“You want to know about Connor.”  
  
She nodded.  
  
“It’s okay, Fred,” Cordelia said quietly. “I miss him, too. I still love him.” She tilted her head toward the ceiling, closed her eyes, and sighed. “This won’t be easy for you to hear and, I’m sorry, but there’s no way to soften it.”  
  
She drew in a breath. “I watched Connor try to kill Angel more than once. I watched Jasmine possess my body and use it to kill people and seduce Angel’s son, the boy I helped raise and considered my own.”  
  
She paused as Dawn retched, dropping her head between her knees.  
  
“I watched as she stole Angel’s soul and released Angelus. I watched as she tried to end the world. I watched as she displaced the soul of the baby she conceived with my body and Connor."

Cordelia closed her eyes and her tears spilled forth. "And I watched as she used my body to give birth to herself.”  
  
It was Buffy and not Dawn who vomited, barely making it to the waste can in time as Fred fell to her knees and cried. Faith had moved beyond tears, experiencing second-hand a violation so profound, she had no idea how Cordelia managed to breathe, let alone relate these events.

Gunn had put his fist through the nearest wall and was swearing a blue streak as bitter tears fell from his eyes. Wesley slid out of his chair and sat on the floor, head on his knees. Lorne quietly nursed his drink in a corner, watching the others, wondering what could have been done differently before realizing it no longer mattered.  
  
“Eventually Angel and Connor will reconcile,” Cordelia finished, “but if that’s to happen, I can’t be there. I would just be a reminder of things they need to move past.”  
  
A mortified Willow stared at her. “This was my fault.”  
  
“No, it wasn’t.”  
  
“It’s because I brought Buffy back and opened the door to the First. This thing, this Jasmine thing, she was a part of that, because of choices I made.”  
  
“Indirectly,” Cordelia reluctantly conceded, “but it _wasn’t_ your fault. She had picked me long before things in Sunnydale began getting out of hand.” She looked away. "She picked me even before I left Sunnydale. She picked me at my most happiest."  
  
Willow gasped. "With Xander?"  
  
Cordelia nodded.  
  
"That was all planned?"  
  
"She used you, Willow. She needed me out of Sunnydale and away from Xander."  
  
“But why you?” roared an outraged Wesley. “Why was it you who was made to suffer this … this unholy defilement?” He shook his head in frustration. “Of all of us, you are the _only_ one who has _never_ lied, _never_ cheated, _never_ betrayed ...  
  
“You just answered your own question,” Buffy softly interrupted.  
  
He deflated and silently held out his empty glass for Lorne to refill.  
  
“It’s not your fault,” Cordelia repeated to Willow. “Yes, we all made choices, but what happened was the result of forces aligning against all of us, particularly Angel and Connor. I was just the instrument.” She paused. “There’s something else you need to know, something I’m not sure you’ve figured out yet.”  
  
Willow tilted her head in curiosity.  
  
“You weren’t addicted to magic, Willow. That’s just ridiculous. You’re a witch. You’re meant to practice magic, otherwise you never would have been given the gift. You were addicted to the _power_ , to what magic could do for you. You weren’t respectful.”  
  
Willow’s eyes widened with every word and, after Cordelia had finished, she nodded, slowly at first, before increasing the pace. It made sense, a truth so simple she had blinded herself to it.  
  
"Don't fear your power, Willow, or you'll just create a new prison for yourself."  
  
“Queen,” Faith interjected, “why did you … _how_ did you …”  
  
“Not yet,” the woman replied, holding up a hand. “We’ll get to that.”  
  
Faith ground her teeth in irritation but nodded.  
  
“That’s why you’re here,” Buffy said to Cordelia. “Because of a choice. Because you chose to come back for Xander.”  
  
Cordelia shook her head. “Actually, I’m back because someone _brought_ me back. I didn’t have the power to return on my own. If I had, don't you think I would have returned a hell of a lot sooner?”  
  
“Excuse me?” Wesley asked. “Who is this person? Nothing we tried, nothing the firm was capable of doing, managed to rouse you from the coma! How was this accomplished?”  
  
He refrained from stomping his foot like a petulant child, though it took concerted effort.  
  
She eyed him. “First of all, never forget it’s only the Los Angeles branch under Angel’s control, and that’s more an illusion than not.”  
  
“So they weren’t really doing nothin’,” Gunn spat.  
  
Fred answered before Cordelia could. “Oh, no,” she purred, her lip curled and eyes hard, “that’s not their style. They would have made some perfunctory effort in order to keep Angel docile, if only to come to him later, _dripping_ with sorrow and saying yet another attempt had failed.”  
  
Lorne smirked. “You got it, babe.”  
  
Cordelia nodded. “No matter what they did, it wouldn’t have worked. The Senior Partners have mojo, but not enough to penetrate the Higher Realms. If they did, they would decimate all Higher Beings, as well as the Powers. While I was there, I was safe, but I was also trapped and no one had the power to free me. Not the Senior Partners, not Angel, not even the Powers.”  
  
“So what the fuck happened?” Faith asked.  
  
“At its core, evil exists to spread loss. That’s why I was kept from Angel and the rest of my family. That’s why Doyle was taken, why Tara was taken. Jesse, Jenny, Kendra, Joyce, Anya. The list is endless and there’s always another name on the register.”  
  
They fell silent for a moment, confronting an expectation they had foreseen but would have been content to ignore.  
  
“Who else did you see?” Buffy asked. “I’m guessing there were others?”  
  
Cordelia bit her lip and nodded, he eyes dampening as she again looked at Willow.

“Jesse,” she said thickly, her throat full. She sighed. “I can’t … I _won’t_ … what we talked about was private, just for us, but he’s okay. He misses you and loves you and Xander. He’s still with you and always will be.” She smiled sadly. “Remember him. When you think of the dead, the dead can hear you.”  
  
“You stole that from _Xena_ ,” a huffy Dawn accused in an attempt to take the attention away from Willow, who was heartened yet devastated by the knowledge that Jesse McNally continued somewhere in some form unknown to her.  
  
Cordelia shrugged. “It’s still true.” She turned to Buffy. “I have a message for you from Kendra.”  
  
The Slayer’s face slackened and she waited.  
  
“It’s time to pass the torch.”  
  
Buffy appeared puzzled before her own sad smile asserted itself. Silently, her hand went behind her back and, when it reappeared, it was clutching Mister Pointy. She held the stake out reverently on two hands toward Faith, who blanched.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Yes,” Cordelia insisted.  
  
“I can’t.”  
  
“But you will, because it’s time.” She shook her head. “Kendra has watched you, Faith, from the beginning, from the moment you were Called. She’s seen it all and she’s _so_ proud of you.”  
  
“Stop.”  
  
“No. You need to hear this. You need to know and _accept_ there are people on your side other than Angel, that you can be forgiven if you’ll only allow yourself to be. Kendra’s been up there, watching it all, seeing how it played out, and she wants you to have that stake because you _earned_ it. Because, after Buffy, you’re the longest-lived Slayer on record. Because you made the choice to make a change.  
  
"And you know what else? You’re the last _Chosen_ Slayer. You may not believe in yourself, in your worth, but someone, something, somewhere thinks otherwise. Now take the goddamn thing!”  
  
Before she could think better of it, Faith reached out and snatched the stake from Buffy’s hands.  
  
“Thanks,” she mumbled, blushing.

Buffy nodded kindly and said nothing.  
  
Cordelia cleared her throat. “I saw Jenny. I’ll need to call Giles later when I’m alone.”

Buffy and Willow offered no comment, though their sadness was apparent.

“I, uh, I also saw Doyle,” she said, reddening, “but there’s no need to share that.”  
  
“Did you …” Dawn tried.  
  
“I saw your mother,” Cordelia confirmed. Her mouth opened to elaborate but then her eyes became opalescent.  
  
“Jesus Christ!” Buffy exclaimed.  
  
“What the shit is that?!” Faith bellowed, backing up against the couch.  
  
“Vision,” droned Wesley, Gunn, and Fred.  
  
“Oh, goddess,” Willow breathed.  
  
“Phone!” Cordelia barked, holding out a hand in silent demand.  
  
Several scrambled but Dawn beat them all to the punch. Cordelia dialed.  
  
“It’s me,” she said into the receiver. “A sarcophagus was just delivered to Fred’s old lab.” She frowned. “Shut up, Angel! Get _rid_ of it! Don’t let anyone touch that thing, do you hear me? You and … the other vampires ... get it the hell out of there. Hide it someplace no one will think to look. I’ll have Willow call you later with details.”  
  
She paused. “What? Whatever. Yeah, I’ll tell them you said _hi_ ,” she rolled her eyes and hung up. Before anyone could question her, she looked to Willow. “That telepathy thing, do it with me. Now.”  
  
Willow’s eyes widened, but she cleared her mind and focused. _What’s happened?  
  
The Deeper Well._  
  
It took a moment for Willow to navigate the myriad files she had established in her brain for wonky supernatural things, but once she had accessed it, her eyes widened to a point heretofore unmatched by any person.

“Oh, _fuck_.”  
  
“Will?” asked an anxious Buffy.  
  
The witch ignored her. _Who?  
  
Fred. Don’t look at her! The others will know._  
  
Willow forced herself to comply.  
  
_Do you know how to dispose of it?_ Cordelia asked.  
  
The other woman hesitated. _I’m not sure, but I have some ideas. I’ll need to research. It can’t fall into the wrong hands._  
  
Cordelia nodded.  
  
_You … you trust me with this?  
  
Absolutely, and not just because there’s no one else. You can do this, Willow._

She paused in her thoughts. _When I was still in Los Angeles, I had a vision. Fred was supposed to open that thing and would have become … infected ... with its essence, an Old One called Illyria. Hi-jinks would ensue and end with Fred’s soul being obliterated. And by that I mean gone completely, as if she never had existed. No afterlife, no nothing. Just darkness._  
  
Willow had believed she had no tears left but was proven wrong. The others began peppering her with questions but she continued to ignore them, her eyes ensnared in those of Cordelia, whom she sensed had something else to impart.  
  
_You can’t heal his eye, Willow. Stop wasting your time._  
  
The witch blushed and said nothing, and though she desperately wanted to drop her eyes, she found herself unable to do so.

 _Why?_ she finally asked.  
  
_Because of what happened on the bluff._ _He’s impervious to magic now. Not just yours, but all magic. When you funneled the energy of the earth through him, it changed him on a molecular level_.

Cordelia frowned. _Besides, we both know he wouldn’t want you using magic on someone without their consent. Especially him._  
  
Willow’s eyes flashed with guilt, but also confusion. _But then how can I communicate telepathically with him? We’ve been doing it for years_. But before Cordelia could reply, she answered her own question. _Because he allows it_.  
  
Cordelia nodded. _He’s not even aware he’s doing it; it’s on a subconscious level. It’s also because you’re so close with him. You two have been reading each other’s minds for years. Don’t you find it easier to communicate with him than the others?_  
  
Willow nodded.  
  
_Okay, then. End this now, please_.  
  
She did and Cordelia shook her head. “Whoa. Head rush.”  
  
The witch offered a feeble smile but said nothing.  
  
“Okay,” Cordelia continued, “where was I? Oh, right! Joyce.”  
  
As much as Buffy wanted to know about her mother, her fear about what Cordelia and Willow had been discussing was paramount. Before she could question them further, Dawn took over the conversation, not about to be put off.  
  
“What did Mom tell you?”  
  
Cordelia looked at the girl. “First of all, that thing that appeared to you? That wasn’t Joyce; it was the First.”  
  
“What?” Buffy cried. "When was this?"  
  
Dawn startled, ignored her sister, and looked away from Cordelia. “I know.”  
  
“ _Do_ you?” Cordelia challenged. She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Or, if you do, you haven’t accepted it.” She frowned. “Dawn, do you _really_ believe your mother would appear to you and warn you against your sister? What _wouldn’t_ Buffy do for you? What _hasn’t_ she done for you?”

She shook her head. “Don’t be stupid. Buffy would die to protect you. Oh, wait! She _did_.”  
  
Dawn colored and said nothing.  
  
Cordelia continued to stare at her. “You wanted to believe it was the First, but there was always some small voice in the back of your head whispering that it was really Joyce, that everything you always feared since learning you were the Key was true.”

Her voice dropped. “It’s not. Buffy will always put you first. She always has.” She drew in a sharp breath. “The hardest thing in this world is not to live it, but to find a reason to believe you should. Your reason is because your sister will stop at nothing to ensure your safety. Trust in that. Believe in _that_. Believe in _her_.”  
  
Dawn nodded as her eyes filled. "Do you?"

"Yes."  
  
Buffy stared at Cordelia. “What _are_ you?”  
  
Because she knew there was more, something she didn’t yet know or understand.

Cordelia was a Seer. Check.

Half-demon? Okay.

Higher Being? Whatever.

But there something else, something intangible she couldn’t name, and she wanted to know just what the hell it was.  
  
Gunn, Fred, Lorne, and Wesley all flinched, remembering that same question had been earlier posed by Lindsey.  
  
Cordelia ignored them all, focusing on Dawn. “I understand what Glory did to you better than anyone, how it still haunts you.”

Her eyes clouded with memory as her voice grew hazy. “An all-powerful deposed deity decides you’re the answer to all her problems and she’s not going to let anyone stand in her way of using you to accomplish her goals. She doesn’t care that you have a life you love, that you want greedily, and she’s not beneath killing everyone and everything you love to get what she wants.”  
  
She bit her lip. “It makes you question your worth as a person, because you’ve been reduced to an object … a … a _thing_. You want to explain it to people but you know words will never suffice, will never communicate the horror, so you don’t even try, because you know they’ll never really understand.”  
  
Dawn said nothing and neither did Buffy.  
  
Faith, Kennedy, and Willow had glimmers of understanding, though it was couched in their own personal experiences with power and the toll it took on those who possessed it.  
  
“Your mother is proud of you both. What you had in her, what she gave to you, was a gift, something for which Xander, Willow, Faith, Wesley, and me have always longed but never had. And we never will.”  
  
She fell silent for a moment. “To have a parent who loves you unconditionally, who would stand at your side supporting you until their dying breath, that’s _awesome_.” She frowned. “In that it inspires awe, not in a Bill and Ted kind of way.” She cocked her head and finally shrugged. “Though I guess that applies too.  
  
“Joyce is okay,” she continued. “She’s safe and happy and always will be. She’s not alone. She’s always watching over and watching out for you, and I can’t think of anyone better for the job. When you’re facing your darkest moments, when you’re up against your most dangerous enemies, when you’re looking up from a hole which you believe you'll never escape, it’s her courage and strength that will see you through.”  
  
She beamed. “You may be a Slayer, Buffy, and your sister might be a Key, but your fortitude, your humanity?  _Those_ are the legacies of your mother. Wow. How lucky are you?”  
  
“Very,” Buffy whispered.  
  
“I’m not the Key anymore,” Dawn quietly said.  
  
“Sure you are."  
  
“What?”  
  
“What?” Buffy and Wesley exclaimed.  
  
Willow, who believed she had somewhat cottoned on, turned to Dawn. “You were the only one unsurprised when Cordy arrived. Why?”  
  
Once the question had been posed, her mind was free to solve the puzzle. “Oh, my god.”

She whirled on Cordelia. “It was Dawn? _Dawn_ brought you back?”  
  
“What!” bellowed the others, Dawn included.  
  
Cordelia grinned. “She sure did.” She turned toward the girl. “Hey, thanks!”  
  
Dawn’s mouth fell open.  
  
“What? But … but _how?_ ” Buffy demanded.

She had to force herself from racing to her sister and checking her for injury, reminding herself that Dawn was no longer a child. In fact, in these past two years, Dawn had proven herself not only more capable of accepting change than her sister, but of embracing it.  
  
“She prayed,” Cordelia said. “She prayed for someone to come and help Xander because she knew none of you could. Not because you’re incapable, but because you don’t know everything about what he’s experiencing.”  
  
Dawn’s eyes filled as she set her jaw to keep it from quivering. “I prayed to Anya,” she said in a broken voice.  
  
Buffy clapped a hand over her own mouth and squeezed shut her eyes.  
  
“And she heard you,” Cordelia softly said, "and she sent me.”  
  
“You saw Anya,” Willow said in a hollow voice. "You've been with Anya." Her heart caught in her throat. "I miss Anya."  
  
“She found me. She’s owed a lot of favors and cashed in _a lot_ of chips to get to me. She knew I’d eventually find my way out of there and wanted me with Xander after I did.”  
  
“With Xander,” Buffy repeated. “ _With_ Xander. That’s why you’re here. You still love him.”  
  
“Well, of course I do!” Cordelia snapped. “What, like you stopped loving Angel because of Riley? Like you stopped loving Riley because of Spike?” She soured. “Please.” She said nothing for a moment. “You could be with Angel now,” she said quietly, “if you wanted.”  
  
Buffy frowned.  
  
Cordelia took a breath. “Look, there’s something you need to know, something they should have told you, if they weren’t such stupid, selfish, macho, bullheaded …”  
  
“What is it?” interrupted an amused Buffy. Her smile died when Cordelia met her eyes.  
  
“There’s no good way to say this, so brace yourself.”  
  
She nodded.  
  
“Spike’s alive.”  
  
Buffy’s eyes hooded and at last she released a long, controlled breath. “How.”  
  
“You remember Lindsey McDonald?”  
  
“Aw, shit,” Faith groaned.  
  
Buffy nodded tightly. “I’ve heard of him.”  
  
“Well, he found that amulet in the wreckage of Sunnydale and sent it to Angel. The big moron opened it and out popped Spike.” She rolled her eyes. “He was a ghost at first, which was all kinds of lame, but he’s corporeal now.”

She hesitated, but decided finally to press forward. “Look, _whatever_ you feel for him … I don’t care. I’m not judging you. At least not about that. Bottom line? What he tried to do wasn’t your fault. No matter what you said or how you treated him, no woman asks for that.”  
  
Buffy closed her eyes.  
  
“What?” asked Faith and Willow.  
  
Buffy shook her head, so Dawn answered for her. “The night he left, the night before Tara died, Spike tried to rape Buffy.”  
  
“If you want to go all black-eyed,” Cordelia said to Willow, shuddering, “I don’t blame you. Watching it was certainly no walk in the park.”  
  
Willow said nothing, inordinately sad for her best friend.

On some level, she had known and she ached that Buffy, for whatever reason, had been unable to tell her. In that last year, Dawn had distanced herself from Spike, which was strange, but Xander’s behavior was the greater oddity. The bickering patter Xander had with Spike had diminished to the point where they barely exchanged words, the former instead preferring to observe closely the latter.

She had never been able to discern that for which Xander was searching, but now she knew, and wondered how he had managed from staking Spike.  
  
Faith was beyond outraged; she was mortally offended.  
  
“You mean to tell me that that pasty motherfucker tries to rape you, leaves town and comes back with a shiny new soul, and you let him stay in your house with your teenage sister and a bunch of girls who had no powers? And you didn’t even warn Red or Jeeves or me what a threat he really was?”

Her eyes all but bugged out of her skull. “What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?!”  
  
Cordelia raised a brow. “It’s done and there’s no point in trying to justify it now.” She looked back to Buffy. “Go to him if you want. If you want Angel, go for that.”  
  
Again, Buffy shook her head. “I don’t want Spike and Angel doesn’t want me. He loves you.”  
  
“Yeah, he does, and I love him. But he also loves you and I love Xander.” She shrugged. “And here we are.”  
  
Buffy’s answering laugh was only slightly hysterical.  
  
“You’re so blasé about all of this,” Willow said, the words an observation and not an accusation.  
  
“I can't be otherwise,” Cordelia replied. “What good is it to angst over and over and _over_ about everything we’ve been through? Nothing changes. It doesn't help. It doesn’t bring back the people we’ve lost. Being angry and bitter does nothing but make you reckless and tired. I just woke up and I’m not ready to lie back down and pray everything will be okay. There’s too much to do.”  
  
“This is all very interesting, but basically irrelevant,” Buffy declared. “At this point, the last thing I need in my life is Angel or Spike swooping in and trying to save the day. I can do that for myself.”  
  
“Damn right,” Cordelia nodded. “It’s a lesson I had to learn too.”  
  
“And you’re here to save Xander.”  
  
She shrugged. “Someone has to.”  
  
“Dawn is still the Key.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Is she in danger?”  
  
“No, and she doesn’t have full access to her powers. Most likely she never will because the need for which she was created no longer exists. She was so desperate to help Xander, she reached out with her mind in complete surrender, hoping someone would hear her. Glory is done. Dawn is safe. I promise you that, Buffy.”  
  
Buffy held her eyes for a several moments and at last nodded.  
  
“I don’t want to be the Key,” Dawn whispered, “but if I can help Xander, if I really brought you here, then at least I’ve accomplished something.” Her grin was feral. “I hope Glory was watching and her big ugly head exploded.”  
  
Cordelia and Buffy snickered, Dawn joining in. The others stared at them.  
  
“I don’t get it,” Faith frankly stated.  
  
“There’s nothing to get,” Buffy answered. “What’s done is done and can’t be undone. Okay, so Dawn’s still the Key. Cordy says she’s not in danger and I believe her, so that’s the end of it. If Dawn needs help down the road with any wonky powers, I'll make sure she gets it. Cordy’s back here where she belongs, and if Anya believes she’s the one to help Xander, then I believe that too.” She shrugged. “That’s all that matters.”  
  
She raised a brow at Faith's disbelief. “What? With all the crap we’ve seen and done, this is earth-shattering?” She snorted. “Please. I can deal with the rest. Spike’s alive. Fine. Maybe one day I’ll want to see him or maybe I never will. Same with Angel. That's _my_ choice, one they both tried to take from me. If they need my help, I’ll go.”  
  
“They will,” Cordelia cryptically said.  
  
At this, Buffy raised both brows. “What did you see?”  
  
Cordelia shook her head. “I’m not sure. Things have already changed. Events which were supposed to have happened have been altered, so whatever is going to go down won’t in the way I saw.”  
  
“Like whatever you and Willow talked, or, um, thought about,” Fred guessed.  
  
She nodded.  
  
“And you being alive?” Kennedy asked.  
  
Cordelia smirked. “Very good.”  
  
“What don’t we know?” Willow asked.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Before, you said we wouldn’t be able to help Xander because we didn’t know everything. What is it?”  
  
Cordelia surprised everyone by bursting into tears.  
  
She had been emotional at points throughout this impromptu encounter session, but she had never fully lost her composure. Now, she sat sobbing, her hands over her face and hidden by her curtain of hair, great gulping gasps torn from her throat as her hunched shoulders trembled with tension and grief she had been suppressing since she had awakened.

No one present, not even Willow, who, next to Xander, had known her longer than anyone in the room, on the planet, had ever seen Cordelia so desolate, so raw and broken.  
  
Willow no longer desired an answer to her question, nor did Buffy, but Faith and Dawn were desperate for any clue that might afford them insight into Xander’s mind, why he had turned so cold and removed himself almost completely from life.  
  
“It’s not just because of Anya, is it?” Dawn pressed.  
  
Faith shook her head. “It can’t be. He’s lost people before. Yeah, no one he loved like her, true, but X bounces back eventually. Always has. That’s who he is.”  
  
Cordelia removed her hands and stared at her before laughing. She looked at Dawn, then Buffy, and finally to Willow, who knew that her world was about to be blown apart.  
  
“That’s the thing. He’s not just mourning Anya.” She looked down, her head swaying slightly. “He’s also mourning the baby who died with her.”


	5. Revelations

Cordelia couldn’t meet their eyes, knowing they were regarding her with shock, horror, disbelief, and rage. Their cacophony of emotions was so profound and stultifying, she was unable to discern which was coming from whom.

If it was this difficult for her, she didn't even want to imagine what Lorne was going through. Given the sheer amount of repressed emotions that had been released during this encounter session, she was surprised he had managed this long.

Of all of them, however, it was Willow who frightened her the most, as she sensed the potential of another Kingman’s Bluff episode, one for which Cordelia Chase had no time or patience.   
  
All of this had taken much longer than she had anticipated, time which could have been spent with Xander. She also knew that, more than any of them, it was Willow who would understand what that child would have meant to Xander. She was terrified the witch’s rancor would spark her own.

Thus, she had to put off Willow and the others, if only for a time, so she changed the subject slightly.  
  
“I know you all have regrets about Anya,” she began, her gaze resting firmly on her hands in her lap, “and I’m not here to absolve you of them. She has hers, as well. There were mistakes made on both sides, but that's over now.”  
  
“A baby,” Buffy quietly repeated, her mind spinning with the revelation.  
  
Cordelia ignored her and chanced a glance at Willow, only mildly surprised to see nothing but devastating sadness reflected back at her. “I know. I know what the baby would have meant to you and to him. I know you feel powerless and ashamed and an ache so deep you could never qualify it.” She paused. “But that baby is gone and it’s not your fault.”  
  
“No,” Willow easily agreed. “It’s Anya’s fault for being there. It’s Buffy’s fault for putting her there.”  
  
Buffy flinched.  
  
“Now wait just a damn minute, Red,” Faith snarled. “Who the hell are you to be assigning blame?”  
  
Willow flushed, but her anger didn’t abate.  
  
“You’d blame a dead woman so that you can feel better over a loss that’s hers and not yours?” Gunn sneered.  
  
“You don’t understand,” Willow seethed.  
  
“Oh, but we do,” Fred snapped. “We lost Connor twice. We lost who Cordelia’s child could have been, given the chance.”   
  
It was only after she said the words that she recognized how true they were and how they should never be spoken in anger. Her eyes filled and she looked to the floor.   
  
“I’m so sorry, Cordy,” she whispered.  
  
“It’s okay."  
  
“No it ain’t,” Gunn hissed. “We had no right.”  
  
“You have every right,” Cordelia insisted. “You _did_ lose Connor. And while that loss wasn’t the same as mine, or as Angel’s, you feel what you feel. As for … the other …”  
  
“It's unnecessary, Cordelia," Wesley said gently. "Some things should not be discussed until their proper time."  
  
“Thank you,” she whispered.  
  
“But this is the time, isn’t it?” Dawn asked. “Sort of? Because you understand what Xander’s going though in a way none of us ever could.”  
  
Cordelia swallowed and nodded. The anger Willow felt dimmed considerably.  
  
“Xander didn’t know, did he?” Dawn continued. “About the baby, I mean. Not until after.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Wait,” Faith said slowly, her features gathered in a frown, “I remember him reading something on the bus after I took over driving for Woody.” At Cordelia’s nod, her anger reignited and was now aligned with that of Willow. “You’re saying that chick left him a fucking _note_ telling him about his own damn baby? What the fuck is that?”  
  
“That,” Cordelia coolly replied, “was Anya’s choice.”  
  
“Some choice,” Willow hissed.  
  
“Whatever,” the other girl snapped. “It wasn’t your choice to make and you don’t have the best track record for making decisions under pressure, so you better just calm down and know your role here.”  
  
“Which is what?” she barked.  
  
“Which is shutting the hell up and letting me finish!”  
  
“Why would she do that?” Fred wondered aloud. “Why would Anya put herself in that position?”  
  
“Because she knew she was needed,” Cordelia immediately replied. “And she was. She wasn’t going to shirk her duty because she was pregnant and it’s not our right to pass judgment on her. Her choice saved lives. She knew going in what could happen and she went anyway, not because she was reckless, but because that’s who she was.”  
  
“Did you see her?” Kennedy breathed. “Did you watch what happened to her?”  
  
Pain marred Cordelia’s face. She wouldn't inflict them with the agony that was Anya's final moment.

“Yeah.” Righteous indignation took over. “So I know what I’m talking about.” She glared at Willow. “And you don’t.”   
  
She forced herself to breathe. “What none of you know is what she did that day, how many people she saved, because she made a sacrifice no one should ever have to make.”  
  
“What do you mean?” Gunn asked.  
  
“I mean that on the outer perimeter of the school, one girl, one mortal girl who was no longer a demon and had no powers, armed with only a sword almost too heavy for her to lift, managed to take out a Turok Han and a dozen Bringers on her own. _That’s_ what I mean.”  
  
“Dear Lord,” Wesley murmured as Faith and Buffy gasped.  
  
She looked at Buffy. “You understand what a feat that was because, without your scythe, you were almost as powerless against the übervamps as Dawn or Giles or I would have been.”   
  
Her glaze flitted toward Faith. “You know what would have happened if even _one_ of those things had gotten past Anya and escaped into the sewers before Sunnydale was contained, of the damage they could have done.”   
  
She paused to gather her thoughts.   
  
“Anya knew the score going in, which is something none of you has ever given her credit for.” She threw up her hands. “The woman was over a thousand years old! She’d seen more demons and vampires than any of you could shake a stake at. She’d seen legions of Slayers rise and fall. She was around when the Council was nothing more than a handful of men hidden in the basement of an abandoned church.”   
  
She shook her head. “I don’t understand you when it comes to her. She could have left; she did, before graduation, but she came back.”  
  
“Because it’s what she knew,” Willow charged.  
  
Cordelia raised a brow. “Are you really stupid enough to believe that? If we’re going to talk about what Anya knew, let’s start with the fact she was all too aware that living on the Hellmouth meant she could die at any moment, but she came back and she stayed and she helped you fight. She had no powers, no real stake in what happened, but she was out on patrol almost every night simply because she knew it was the right thing to do. Hell, she was out there when Buffy was … gone … just like you, Xander, Oz, and I were the first time, after Angel died.”  
  
“What!” Buffy shouted. “You kept patrolling?”  
  
“Of course we did!” She rolled her eyes. “What, we were supposed to let people die needlessly just because you weren’t there?” She blew a raspberry. “Please.

"Let me tell you something, Buffy: we stuck it out because that was the choice _we_ made, to see this through regardless of whether or not you were present. Xander and Willow signed on before they ever really knew you and it wasn’t just because of Jesse. If being your friend was a prerequisite to being a Scooby, then how the hell do you explain me? We sure weren’t friends.”  
  
Buffy chewed on her lip and at last nodded.  
  
“It was the same with Anya,” Cordelia continued. “She came back because she wanted to help, wanted to make a difference, wanted to be better than what she had been. She didn’t have to. She had connections. She could have made a life for herself anywhere in the world she wanted, safe from the violence.”

She scoffed. “You think she came back just because Xander gave her a tumble on Prom night? You think Tara stuck around because she liked Willow’s shiny, shiny hair?”  
  
“That was uncalled for,” Kennedy chided.  
  
“Bullshit. You don’t know anything about us or what we’ve been through, other than what you’ve been told. I respect that you’re Willow’s girlfriend, but stay out of it.”  
  
Kennedy was about to protest, but was silenced when Willow held up a hand.  
  
“She’s right. Let her say this.”  
  
Cordelia nodded. “The problem you two have always had,” she said, gesturing to Willow and Buffy, “is that you think you’re better than us.”  
  
“That is _not_ true,” Buffy protested.  
  
“Yes, it is. When you came to Sunnydale, you had barely a year of Slayer experience under your belt and you made a lot of mistakes, including one that actually _did_ cost you your life. When Kendra showed up, you were jealous and obnoxious, even though there had been Slayers before you, who, at that time, were much more accomplished. The same happened when Faith arrived.”   
  
She turned to Willow. “As for you, you’ve always thought you were better than everyone else, Xander and Jesse, and especially me, because of your intelligence.” She shook her head. “People are smart in different ways, honey, and in some things, Xander and I left you in the dust a while ago.   
  
"Then it was your magic. Well, here’s a newsflash: Tara had a _lot_ more power than you, but she knew how to use it whereas you're _still_ figuring it out.  
  
“I know both of you have learned humility over the years, and so have I, but that doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t hold our resentments. That includes me and Xander, and it definitely included Anya. Both of you have your resentments against us and you're entitled, but that's not the issue here.   
  
"We’re no more amateurs than you are and we each have our own special roles and unique talents. Maybe they’re not as showy and grandiose, but they’re just as worthy of respect. And until you can come to me and say you’ve never made a mistake or a choice you regret, don’t pontificate. Anya’s choice saved lives, quite possibly yours included, and you have no right to sit in judgment of her.”  
  
She then glared at Willow and Faith. “So don’t you ever speak her name again without reverence on your lips. Don’t you ever think or speak of her as anything less than a hero, because that’s exactly what she was.”  
  
They held her eyes until shame forced them to look away.  
  
“Are you saying she chose us over her baby?” asked a skeptical Dawn.  
  
“I’m saying she chose to save the world.”  
  
“It was still a selfish choice,” Buffy said.  
  
Cordelia raised a brow. "Really? And was it not a selfish choice when you jumped from that tower?" She held up a hand. "Don't even bother to deny it, Buffy. I saw that scene act out over a thousand different realities. I _know_ what you were thinking. Yes, you wanted to save Dawn, and I admire you for that, but you were also ready for all of this to be over.   
  
"I don't blame you for it. I even respect how well you managed to hang on for so long. But don't sit there and tell me you never put your friends or your sister before what you knew to be right. And you very well know that when you fought with Giles before your battle with Glory that _he_ was right. You took an incredible chance, one that could have had very serious consequences for the ones left behind. Luckily, it worked. At least as much as was possible.  
  
Cordelia turned toward the others. "Let me ask you something, all of you who were there: going in, did you expect to survive?”  
  
“Fuck no,” Faith blurted.  
  
“No,” Dawn whispered.  
  
“I hoped,” Kennedy said, “but no.”  
  
Cordelia’s gaze narrowed on Buffy and Willow, both of whom fidgeted.   
  
Finally, Willow sighed. “Not at all,” she admitted. “I didn’t think I would be able to pull off the spell.” She paused. “Even after it worked, I don’t think I expected to make it out alive or with my magic intact. Not even after we’d been on the bus for three hours.”  
  
Buffy looked away and then looked back down at her hands. “No.”  
  
Cordelia nodded. “Neither did Anya. Sure, she could have left." She arched a brow. "And then what? Everything she had would have been gone, including all of you and especially Xander. What were her alternatives?”   
  
When no answers were forthcoming, she continued. “She knew Xander wouldn’t leave. Buffy, you had to know that he planned on dropping Dawn off with Angel and then immediately coming back to you, right?”  
  
The Slayer said nothing, averting her eyes.  
  
“She still could have left,” Willow argued, though her voice was uncertain.  
  
“And gone where? Done what? With help from whom? By then, the Council was in a complete shambles, and I can't even imagine what some of the Old Guard would have done to a former vengeance demon who was an integral team member of the Slayer they believed to have abandoned them.  
  
"Who else? Angel? Anya had no love for vampires and she agreed with Xander that Buffy's relationship with Angel was obscene."

She rolled her eyes. "And _no_ , we're not going to debate the merits of _that_ particular argument. I'm certainly neither going to defend nor prosecute their actions. I'm not a hypocrite.

"Bottom line, Anya didn't know Angel or our team, and had no reason to trust us. She wouldn't have been comfortable around a vampire, or around me, especially with Xander's child. Even if I _was_ Twilight Zoning at the time.  
  
"See, it’s really easy to say that she had options but, if you’re honest with yourselves, you’ll acknowledge she had very few. Not to mention her conscience would never have allowed her to flee, leaving you all to die, wondering for the rest of her life whether she could have been able to help you, trying to explain to her child why he had no father.”  
  
Buffy and Willow looked at each other. They didn't like it, but Cordelia's logic was sound. As easy as it was to insist Anya had been in the wrong, they both knew that they would have made the same choice had they been in her shoes.  
  
“But if she had told Xander, he would have left with her,” Kennedy said.  
  
Cordelia heaved a sigh. “See, this is what I meant. You don’t know us at all. There is no way Xander will ever leave Buffy by choice, his relationships with Willow, Giles, Anya, me, or anyone else notwithstanding. He just _won’t_ , not even for his child. Would he have insisted Anya get out? Absolutely, even if he’d had to drug her and ship her to Abu Dhabi. But would he have left? No way.”   
  
She turned to Buffy. “I’m about to say something which will probably hurt you and for that I’m sorry, but they need to understand this.”  
  
Buffy grimaced but nodded.  
  
“Buffy’s not had an easy time of it and I don’t think anyone, not even Willow or Giles or Dawn, really get that.” She fell quiet for a moment. “Not even Joyce.”   
  
She cleared her throat. “As much as we bitch about her power trips and dueling inferiority and superiority complexes, those aren’t the issues. Buffy operates from a deep sense of abandonment, and she has cause. She believes those who love her will eventually leave her, either by choice or circumstance, so she pushes them away first. And the one who loves her the most, who has _always_ loved her the most in a way no one else ever has or ever could, was pushed the hardest.”  
  
Buffy swallowed as her eyes filled.  
  
Cordelia forced herself to get through this so that she could then get to Xander. She was on a timetable, after all.   
  
“Merrick, Pike, her father; Giles, Wesley, the men of the Council; Angel, Riley, and Spike. In one way or another, despite the circumstances, each of them has abandoned her. Some she drove away, some passed away, and some chose to leave so that she could see she could survive on her own.   
  
"But Xander never left. _Ever_. And that more than anything, more than any vampire or Big Bad or failed relationship, terrifies her. She’s scared to be alone, but she’s terrified the one who never gave up eventually will, or that her presence in his life will almost certainly guarantee his death.  
  
"Xander will never leave Buffy as long as he's alive. It doesn't matter if she dies; he'll just find a way to bring her back. Because as much as she needs him, he needs her even more. He's lived for her for so long, he doesn't know how to live for himself."  
  
Buffy doubled over and sobbed into her hands.   
  
Willow and Faith looked at her in detached wonder as, finally, the missing piece fell into place. What drove Buffy toward her greatest triumphs and deepest failures was not power or arrogance, but loneliness.   
  
Fred looked on in sympathy while most of Gunn’s disdain thawed. Wesley, now more than ever cognizant of his past mistakes, hung his head. He had not served well either of his Slayers, and it was only now that he realized, in Buffy’s case, even his brief tenure as her Watcher had caused her more harm than he ever realized.  
  
“But you said you were here to take Xander,” a sour Kennedy charged.  
  
Cordelia nodded. “I am, because this is his time. And I’m not taking him from Buffy, not for good, and I’m not being selfish. When I said I was here for Xander, I don’t mean just as his friend or as an ex. There’s a greater plan for him. There always has been.”   
  
Buffy looked up sharply and Cordelia nodded once more.   
  
“His place in your life wasn’t an accident. It wasn’t a random convergence of Hellmouth wonkiness or anything else. It was fate. He was led to you so that you could lead him to his own Calling.”  
  
“Which is?” Dawn demanded.  
  
“None of your business. Not yet. A time will come when you’ll know everything, but that's not today. What you all have to decide is whether you trust me to help him get to this place. Whether you trust him enough to allow him, finally, his own life.”  
  
“I don’t want him to go,” Willow rasped, her breath hitching.  
  
Cordelia was surprisingly sympathetic. “I know and, at first, he won’t want to either, but he needs to. He deserves this and he’s earned it.” She rolled her eyes. “And it’s not like he’s being taken from you, not really. Nothing could do that, not even me.” She raised a brow. “Though if anyone could, I suspect it would be me.” She nodded to herself. “He’s not moving away, he’s just moving on.”  
  
“To be with you?” Fred gently asked.  
  
“If he wants. If he doesn’t, that doesn’t change anything. He can’t go on this way. He’ll die if he does.”  
  
“How do you know he won’t die anyway?” Faith demanded.  
  
“He might. We all might. That’s the risk we take.”  
  
“It doesn’t sound like you’re going to give him much choice.”  
  
“Oh, I’m not. See, there’s no reasoning with Xander when he’s like this. I’ll have to force him to get on with his life. He won’t like it, he’ll probably resent me for it, but that doesn’t matter as long he chooses to live.”   
  
She shrugged as if it were all a _fait accompli_ , which, the others assumed, it probably was.  
  
“About Anya…” Willow warbled.  
  
“Anya made the hardest choice anyone will ever have to make, but she made it and it’s over. Second-guessing that choice or judging her now won’t bring her or the baby back. The only reason I’m telling you this is so that you understand why Xander has to leave. You can’t help him with this one. The more you try, the more he resents you and he’ll never tell you why. He’ll just keep fading away, taking riskier assignments, distancing himself from you, until he’s gone.”  
  
Willow sighed. “Is she okay?”  
  
“She is. She’s happy and she’s not alone and she never will be. She loves you, all of you, and she wants you to be happy. You’ll see her again. Everyone we’ve loved and lost, we’ll see again, including Xander's child.”  
  
“Do you really believe that?” Buffy whispered.  
  
“Of course. I don't lie; it's boring. I told you about those I saw. They’re waiting for us when our time comes.”   
  
She stood. “Fortunately, that’s not now.” She smoothed her shirt and fluffed her hair. “I need to get going. I’m leaving my friends in your hands and I know you’ll take care of them.”  
  
“Wait a minute,” Gunn protested.  
  
“We’ll see each other tomorrow,” she promised, “but right now, I have a destiny to deliver.”   
  
She walked over to Kennedy. “I don’t know you, but I think I like you. Remember this: you’re not Tara and no one expects you to be, especially not Willow. Just love her. Everything else will work itself out.”  
  
Kennedy regarded her for a moment. “There’s something more, something you’re not telling us.” She frowned. “I … I can almost sense it, but then it slips away.”  
  
One corner of Cordelia’s mouth turned up. “There’s one more surprise, but I’m saving it for last. I believe in fashionable entrances _and_ exits. Always leave them wanting more, you know?”  
  
The other girl smirked. “Thanks.”  
  
Cordelia nodded and went to Faith. “When the time comes, go to Angel. He’ll need you more than he ever has, but he won’t ask because he wants you safe.”  
  
Faith growled. “Safe sucks.” She bit her lip. “How will I know when?”  
  
“Don’t worry. A little birdie will give you the skinny.”  
  
She nodded. “Well, it’s been … something." She grinned. "Thanks for dropping in, Queen."  
  
“Hey, us coma gals have to stick together!”   
  
She trotted over to Dawn, got down on her knees in front of the girl, and took her hands in her own. “Thank you, Dawnie, for helping to get me here. For saving Xander.”   
  
The girl launched herself forward, and Cordelia scooped her up into a hug.   
  
“Don’t worry about anything; I promise I’ll take care of him,” she whispered. “And your sister’s going to be okay.”  
  
“Vision?” Dawn mumbled.  
  
“Common sense, which is what you people need a lot more of. After I left it fell to Anya and, now that she’s gone, it’s up to you. Tell them what you think, tell them what you feel, and don’t be afraid to tell them off.” She paused and smirked. “Not that you ever would be. They need you, Dawn, and they haven’t begun to realize just how much. If you ever need me, all you have to do is call.”  
  
Dawn nodded tearfully and released her.  
  
Finally, Cordelia made her way to Buffy and Willow, each of whom stood and looked nervous.   
  
“Well,” she began, “this is it. Tomorrow, Xander and I will be leaving. I’m not sure where we’ll be going, but we’ll let you know. We’ll never be out of contact. I think we’ve all had enough of that.”  
  
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Buffy said.  
  
“You don’t have to. That’s the good thing about knowing each other for as long and as well as we do. Words aren’t needed.”  
  
“I don’t think I realized until just now how much I’ve missed you these last few years, of what you added and what we lost by not having you.”  
  
Cordelia bit her lip, determined not to cry. “That’s one of the nicest things you or almost anyone else has ever said to me. Thanks.”   
  
She leaned over and gave the girl a quick hug, distressed at how thin and gaunt the Slayer had become. She’d later have to call down to room service and send up a cart of waffles.  
  
“I wonder who we’d have been had you stayed,” Buffy sniffed.  
  
Cordelia regarded she and Willow with solemn eyes. “Better dressed, that’s for sure.”   
  
The other girls burst out laughing.   
  
She shrugged. “I had my own Calling. I answered it, and now I have another.” She paused. “I meant what I said before, Buffy: if you want to be with Angel, go to him. You have my blessing.”  
  
“I’ll think about it, but I’m not ready. Not yet.”  
  
Cordelia nodded. “You’ll know when you are.”   
  
She turned to Willow. “There’s something I need to say, something I never thought I’d say, but I can’t leave without saying it.”  
  
Willow braced herself and nodded.  
  
“I’ve never liked you, but I never hated you either, and I want you to know that. I _need_ you to know that.” She swallowed heavily. “There are things in this world that happen for whatever reason, and I’ve learned over the years to accept them. What happened with you and Xander …I’m not angry anymore. It’s over now.   
  
"I don’t know if Xander and I would have made it then, but I don’t think so, and I wouldn’t trade my time with Angel for anything, nor would Xander his with Anya. In a way, you led us to the people we were supposed to become, to the people we were destined to love, no matter for how long. So ... thank you.”  
  
Willow’s eyes spilled over.  
  
“The fact of the matter is,” Cordelia struggled to continue, “that I’ve known you my entire life, Willow. There’s almost no memory I have that doesn’t include you.” She drew the stunned and flustered girl into a fierce embrace. “For better or worse,” she said, pressing a quick kiss to the witch’s cheek, “I love you.”   
  
A raw sob was torn from Willow’s throat as she clung back and buried her face in Cordelia’s neck. The Seer allowed it for a moment, but then gently extricated herself.   
  
“One more thing.”  
  
“Is this the big surprise?” asked an eager Kennedy.  
  
Cordelia nodded and turned back to Willow. “I need to thank you for something else.”  
  
“What?” the girl asked.  
  
“For bringing me back. Without your nifty spell I wouldn’t be here.”  
  
Willow frowned. Bringing her back? What spell? “But … Dawn?”  
  
Her return was, as she had told Angel and the Fang Gang, primarily due to Xander's need for her, but Willow and Buffy didn't need to know that, and without Dawn and Willow, she would have remained stuck in the Higher Realms, rolling her eyes, shaking her head, and hoping for the best.   
  
“Oh, Dawn helped, absolutely. She surrendered herself completely to her power and created a door for me back to get back into this world, but you're indirectly the one who allowed me to walk through it.”  
  
Willow stared. “What? How? _What_?”  
  
Cordelia smirked, leaned forward, and gave a long, slow wink.   
  
“That new calling of mine?" She smirked. "Say hello to the newest Slayer.”  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Out of all of them, only Buffy was unsurprised by Cordelia’s announcement. Indeed, the look on her face suggested that, for her, the final piece of the puzzle had finally been laid down.   
  
She nodded to herself, her smile growing with each movement of her neck, until she looked up and beamed at Cordelia, who returned the gesture.  
  
“Holy shit,” Faith breathed.  
  
“Are you sure about this?” Wesley asked quietly.  
  
“Yeah,” Cordelia answered, her voice exhibiting both anxiety and awe.  
  
Dawn raised an eyebrow. “Xander was always meant to be a Watcher. We just never imagined he’d be yours,” she mused. “Cool.”  
  
“But in order for Cordy to be a Slayer,” Fred said slowly, “doesn’t that mean she had to have been a Potential?”  
  
Wesley nodded, the confusion plain on his face.  
  
“That’s right,” Cordelia said.   
  
“So if not for the spell,” Willow reasoned, “you wouldn’t have been Called?”  
  
“No,” she quietly said, “I would have been Called after Buffy died the second time.”  
  
Buffy’s smile died as her throat filled.  
  
“Then the Line indeed passes through Buffy,” Wesley said.  
  
Cordelia shook her head. “No. The Line goes through both of them. It was always meant to.”  
  
“But that would mean that Buffy was meant to die and come back the first time in the Master’s lair,” said a confused Willow.  
  
“Exactly. Everything happens for a reason. We all had our parts to play.” Her eyes met those of Willow. “Xander especially.”  
  
“He was meant to twin the Line?” Buffy asked.  
  
“Yes. Kendra was meant to be Called. So was Faith. Those weren’t accidents.”  
  
Faith’s breath hitched. In the space of one night, one of her greatest fears had been dispelled.  
  
“Wait,” Gunn spoke up. “If I got the timelines right, after Buffy died, that was pre-coma; you weren’t even half-demon yet. So why didn’t you become a Slayer then?”  
  
Cordelia sighed. “Because as powerful as the Call is …”  
  
“... it can’t cross dimensions,” Lorne softly finished. “The Slayer is unique to this world. And we were on Pylea at the time Buffy died.”  
  
“That don’t make sense, either!” Gunn barked. “Why didn’t it just happen when we got back?”  
  
“Willow was meant to resurrect me, wasn’t she?” Buffy whispered.  
  
“Yeah,” Cordelia said, nodding. “The Slayer … it waited for you.”  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
Cordelia cocked her head. “Why?”  
  
“Because if you had been here, then you wouldn’t have had to become … what you are.”  
  
She threw her head back and laughed. “And what am I? Okay, so I’m half-demon and now I’m a Slayer. Big woo. Fate won’t be denied, Buffy, especially by geography.” She shook her head. “See, this is something we’re all guilty of: feeling bad that bad stuff happens to ourselves and each other. It was all meant to happen this way!”  
  
“Sorry if we can’t take comfort in that,” Willow murmured.  
  
“You’re not meant to,” Cordelia replied, shrugging. “I don’t either. It’s just the way it is. I’ve learned to accept it because there’s no other alternative but insanity. You know that. Faith knows that. Buffy knows that.”  
  
Buffy and Faith nodded, albeit reluctantly.  
  
“And Xander?” Dawn asked. “Where does he fit into all of this?”  
  
Cordelia smiled. “He doesn’t fit in. That’s the whole point of his existence. That’s why he’s so special. See, the Powers have control over all of our destinies, but it’s limited. Like I said, fate won’t be denied; it’s its own force and is beyond the reach of the Powers. We’re their pawns. But Xander? They’re his.”  
  
“He brought me back and twinned the Line,” Buffy said slowly, “creating a second line of defense.”  
  
“He saved me and stopped fuckwitted zombies from opening the Hellmouth,” Faith added.  
  
“He saved you again when Warren shot you,” Dawn said to her sister.  
  
“He stopped me from ending the world,” Willow whispered.  
  
“He saved my life,” Kennedy said.  
  
“So, what’re you saying?” Gunn asked. “The Powers are this guy’s bitches?”  
  
Cordelia nodded. “Pretty much."  
  
“Cool.”  
  
“Xander was created to defy the prophecy which dictated Buffy’s death,” Cordelia continued. “That single act changed everything. Not only us but the world, forever.”  
  
“Well, damn,” Faith said.  
  
The others began debating the ramifications of Cordelia’s revelations, but the Seer locked eyes with Buffy.  
  
 _Can you hear me?_  
  
Buffy pulled a face and nodded. _How … ?_  
  
Cordelia smirked. _Well, I didn’t want to show my hand all at once, but I don’t need Willow to do this. Call it Slayer mojo, demon powers, Seer stuff, whatever. I had a vision.  
  
What did you see?  
  
Willow’s in some serious danger, Buffy._  
  
Buffy tensed. _From what?  
  
Not what. Whom. Amy. She’s got a major hard-on for Willow, and that bitch is coming for her._  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes. _No big. Amy can’t match Will for witchy stuff._  
  
Cordelia raised a brow. _She doesn’t need to. How can she hurt Willow the most?_ Her eyes slid toward Kennedy. _By making history repeat itself._  
  
Buffy clenched her fists at her side. _Well, fuck that.  
  
Exactly. Which is why you’re going to send Kennedy to Angel. Willow’s already going to take care of something yucky, and you’re going to lie to Kennedy and tell her you had a Slayer dream and Willow’s in danger, that she needs to go to Los Angeles with her. It’s up to you whether or not you want to go too._  
  
Buffy frowned. _What can Angel do? He works for the bad guys. Amy is a bad guy. Or girl.  
  
Angel’s a tool in more ways than one, but he controls that office. There are enough other witches and superhuman things which can keep Kennedy safe._  
  
Buffy sighed. _Did you see how it all turns out?_  
  
Cordelia’s eyes narrowed. _No. I only saw that if Willow stays here or returns to Rio, Kennedy is dead and Willow goes nuts. And I don’t mean all veiny. I mean catatonic. Permanently. And if that happens, Amy becomes the most powerful witch in the world._  
  
“I understand.”  
  
“Understand what?” Willow asked.  
  
“Why Xander needs to go,” Buffy quickly said. “He’s done all he can for us and we can’t do anything more for him.”  
  
“I know,” Willow sighed.  
  
“After I see Xander, I’ll work out with Giles arrangements for you,” she told Wesley, Fred, Lorne, and Gunn.  
  
"I ain’t agreed to nothing yet,” Gunn complained.  
  
“Charles, do you want to go back to Angel?” Fred asked. “Because I don’t.”  
  
“Me neither,” Wesley said quietly.  
  
“I don’t know nothing about training Slayers,” Gunn grouched. “How I’m gonna be a Watcher?”  
  
“By watching out for them,” Cordelia said, rolling her eyes. “ _Duh_. Just like you did for the kids in your neighborhood before you came to the agency.”  
  
He looked unconvinced.  
  
“Look,” Faith interrupted, "we got a shit-ton more Slayers than we know what the fuck to do with. The First decimated all the best Watchers outside of Jeeves and Wes. What we got now is eggheads who are untested and haven’t seen a vamp or a demon outside a lab. We need help, Chuckles.”  
  
“Girl, what you call me?” Gunn demanded.  
  
“You got beef? Good! That’s what we need. People who’ve seen the evil shit and know it needs fighting, not just because it’s the right thing to do, but because we got no fucking choice.”  
  
“She’s right,” Kennedy said. “Just because we’re knee-deep in Slayers doesn’t mean the balance has shifted. The First almost unleashed hell on earth. Yeah, we stopped it, but there’s a lot of cleanup left.”  
  
“Whatever,” a bored Dawn interjected. “Just do it, okay?” She clapped her hands, eyes alight with mischief. “Now, I wanna see Buffy fight Cordy! Or Faith can fight her. Let’s see some action!”  
  
“Bump that, Junior Miss,” Faith said, warily eying Cordelia. “We ain’t talking about no newbie Slayer. Not only is Vision Gal half-demon and some kind of fucking demigod, but she was trained – as a _mortal_ – by Angel.” She shook her head. “I’ve fought Fang before. No fuckin’ way.”  
  
“Ditto,” Buffy quickly said.  
  
“I know you’re not looking at me!” Kennedy squawked at Dawn, who pouted.  
  
“I need to go.”  
  
As one, they turned to Cordelia, who gave them a half-smile. Willow was the first to reach her.  
  
“Thank you,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around Cordelia. “Look, I know you’ll take care of him. I _know_ that. But if you hurt him? Slayer, demon, whatever; nothing will stop me from getting to you.”  
  
“I’d be pissed if it did.”  
  
Willow was dislodged by Dawn, who wanted her own hug. “I’m so glad you came, that you’re okay. He needs you so bad, Cordy. It’s … it’s breaking my heart to see him like this.”  
  
“Dawn, you brought me back to help him. It’s not even a question.”  
  
The girl nodded and released her.  
  
Cordelia looked at Faith. “Angel will call you again. When he does, you need to take it."  
  
“Vision?”  
  
She shook her head. “I don’t need one. He has nothing left. He needs someone to kick his ass, like I’m going to do to Xander.”  
  
“I can do that.”  
  
“I know.” Cordelia waved to Kennedy, who smiled and nodded, before turning to Buffy.  
  
“You _can_ do this without him.”  
  
Buffy offered a sickly smile. “I guess I’ll have to.”  
  
“No, you won’t. He’ll always be there when you need him. Always. You need to learn to trust yourself the way he trusts you.” She paused. “After they brought you back, it wasn’t Giles who should have left. But Xander knew he couldn’t, not then. He won’t want to now, but he has to. If he doesn’t, he never will, and he’ll die.”  
  
Buffy nodded. “I know.” She blinked and cleared her throat. “So. Did you get your handbook?” she grinned.  
  
Cordelia smiled. “I don’t need one. I learned from the best.”  
  
Buffy clenched her teeth and breathed through her nose. “You didn’t have to say that.”  
  
“I know. Doesn’t change the fact it’s true.” She shrugged a shoulder. “Don’t you get it? Kendra, Faith, the others. They’re good, but they’re not you. At the core, it’s you, Buffy. Always was, always will be. You’re the best and everyone here knows it. It’s time you did too.”   
  
Cordelia gave her a quick hug that was over before it had begun.  
  
“This isn’t goodbye,” she said to Fred, Lorne, Wesley, and Gunn. “Not by a long shot. I didn’t come back to lose you now. I just need some time, to help Xander and … to help myself.”  
  
Wesley nodded as Fred quietly cried.  
  
“This Xander,” Gunn said gruffly, “you really love him? He loves you? Like you deserve?”  
  
Cordelia beamed. “That’s the thing about Xander. He loves everyone like they deserve, whether or not they feel they do.”  
  
“He hurt you once.”  
  
“And it almost destroyed him,” Willow whispered. “It won’t happen again.”  
  
Cordelia nodded over her shoulder at the witch and again looked at Gunn. “If you’re lucky, you get one true love in your life. I’ve had two and wouldn’t trade either one. I wouldn’t give up my time with Angel despite all the pain it caused both of us. But I’ve loved Xander since I was four years old, Gunn. From the moment he stole Willow’s Barbie and gave it to me so I would have a friend.”   
  
He nodded. “Got it.”  
  
“And if he pisses me off, I’ll dropkick him into Peru.”  
  
“That’s my girl.”  
  
“You gonna sing for me, Princess?” Lorne asked.  
  
“Please, god, no,” Buffy whined.  
  
“Hey!” Cordelia snapped. “You’re one to talk. I saw your solo number in the cemetery. Between that and cookie dough, you shouldn’t be throwing stones.”  
  
Buffy snickered.  
  
Cordelia turned back toward Lorne. “I can’t.”  
  
He tilted his head. “Sleeveless, I know, but you’ve got something else up there, somewhere. You told Angelcakes you were on a mission, that there were plans for your boy.”  
  
She smirked. “This is only the intermission. I don't want to spoil the second act."  
  
“Then give us a kiss, Dorothy, before you click those snazzy boots.”  
  
She leaned over and wrapped an arm around his neck, kissing his cheek, as another arm snaked around Fred. Wesley and Gunn closed ranks and draped their arms over each other’s shoulders, holding Cordelia in place for as long as she would allow.   
  
“Demon Slayer Seers still need to breathe,” she said after several moments.  
  
Reluctantly, they pulled away. She began walking toward the doorway, stopping just before it. She refused to look back.   
  
“I love you all. Take care of yourselves.”  
  
“You too,” several whispered back.  
  
“And keep Xander out of trouble!” Dawn added.  
  
Cordelia snorted. “You've met him, right?”  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
She stood before his door, arms at her sides, clammy fists clenched, wondering what the hell she was supposed to do, to say, how to help him. For all her talk, for as much as she thought she knew what he needed, it was nothing but guesswork. He had lost the woman he loved and the baby they had created together. His grief was hard won and he deserved to indulge it.  
  
Squaring her shoulders, she shook her head. It had been too long; he needed to get over this before he reached the point of no return. She knew how to deal with him, always had, and had a plan all in place, but knew it was risky; that it might cost her whatever feelings he still had for her. But it had to be done.  
  
She hoped he would forgive her.  
  
She wasn’t going to announce her presence by knocking, knowing he would ignore it or proclaim her voice a trick perpetrated by Willow. She wasn’t going to walk in there and beg him to listen to reason; he never had and there was no reason to start now. She wasn’t going to explain everything she went through – her own losses, her own baby – because this wasn’t about him trading his mourning for hers.  
  
A blitz attack was the only way to go.  
  
She tried the door. Locked.  
  
She forced it.  
  
The door was blocked.  
  
She pushed and sent the bureau behind it flying into the opposite wall.  
  
“Not now, Faith. I said I wanted to be alone.”  
  
“Oh, well excuse me, Garbo, but there are things to do.”  
  
“Cordy?” Shock. Disbelief. Hope.   
  
The last touched her. Deeply.  
  
“It’s me.”  
  
“You’re here?”  
  
“Duh.”  
  
“For me?”  
  
She heard the tears. “Always.”  
  
“I’ve lost everything. And I deserved to. Zeppo.”  
  
She bit her lip and cursed herself. “ _Not_ the Zeppo. The _hero_.”  
  
He snorted.  
  
“I love you.”  
  
Silence.  
  
“I love you, Xander.”  
  
“My love kills people.”  
  
“What would you have named the baby?”  
  
Sorrow poured off him. He didn’t question how she knew.  
  
“Joy.”  
  
Her heart broke. “And if it was a boy?”  
  
“It wasn’t.”  
  
“Not Jessica? For Jesse?”  
  
“That was my mother’s name.”  
  
Ah. “Joy is perfect.”  
  
“She was.”  
  
“How much longer are you going to do this to yourself?”  
  
“Until it stops hurting.”  
  
“It never will.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“And the others?”  
  
“I can’t. I’m too tired. Too broken.”  
  
“Then you need to put yourself back together.”  
  
“I don’t know how.”  
  
“I do.”  
  
In the next second she was at his side, clutching his face in her hands. She knew he felt her strength, what it meant, what she was. There was no fear, no confusion, no pain or regret. She delighted in it.  
  
And the time was now.

This was the moment that would change everything, both of them, the world, forever.

This was the rebirth of the hero.   
  
She had waited so long for this, longer than she had imagined, and she didn’t mourn for what she was about to lose, for what she had once fought so zealously to defend, defying everyone and everything to keep close to her.   
  
She kissed him.  
  
His lips felt as they always had, as if fashioned to fit her mouth alone.

And in that instant, Angel and Anya didn’t fade, but were remembered and honored, because she and Xander were better souls for having loved them.  
  
She pulled back and rested her forehead against his own. “I love you.”  
  
“It took you long enough to tell me.”  
  
“You’re such a jackass.”  
  
“That’s why you love me.”  
  
“Which suggests something deeply disturbing about me.”  
  
“Ah, which is why I love you. Why I always have.” He paused. “Are you sure?"  
  
“This time there’s not a doubt in my mind.”  
  
He wrapped his arms around her, tethered to something once more, something familiar and yet new, something he had never realized how much he had missed, and forced the fear to recede, though doubt remained.   
  
“Are we going to be okay?”  
  
“We’re going to be okay.”  
  
Tomorrow they would go wherever his first vision took them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, there will be a sequel.


End file.
